A Shimmer of Starlight
by VirgCoup
Summary: Bitter and ashamed of his failings, Thorin has hidden himself away in Erebor, where he seeks only to secure his line through his nephews. When the bride he arranged for Fili brings her cousin along as companion - the same cousin he passed over as being unsuitable for the match - Thorin gets more than he bargained for. (Thorin/OC)(Fili/OC)
1. Chapter 1

Erebor was the last thing on Astrid's mind the day the letter arrived. She had spent the better part of the afternoon at the mercy of her older sister, a position she didn't relish. Heidrun could be a bit of a martyr even under the best of circumstances, but now that she had a valid excuse, she let that inclination have free rein.

"If you're done preparing dinner, I need more of those biscuits from the market," Heidrun said from the settee, where she lay propped with one hand draped across her eyes. "The ones with the lavender and mint."

Astrid searched the pantry to no avail. "They're gone? I just brought you a dozen yesterday."

"They're the only thing that helps," Heidrun wailed, already on the knife-edge of a tantrum.

"Mother said you would feel better if you would just eat regular food instead of all these sweets."

"You don't know." Heidrun glared at Astrid and hugged her swollen belly as a blatant reminder that she was with child. As though Astrid could forget. "You aren't miserable."

"The midwife said-"

"You want me to be unwell."

Astrid took a deep breath, determined not to let her sister utterly shatter her patience. "I do not want you to be unwell, I want you to eat more than just cakes and sweetbreads."

"You want my child to be weak and sickly." Heidrun turned her face away from Astrid. "That would make you happy."

"You know it wouldn't."

"Then get me those biscuits!"

Unwilling to risk a further show of Heidrun's temper, Astrid trudged out to the Iron Hills' market stalls for another dozen of the sugary biscuits. It couldn't be healthy, the way Heidrun worked herself into fits over the slightest inconvenience, but there was no winning arguments with her in such a state. By the time Astrid returned to her sister's chambers, Heidrun had fallen asleep. Leaving the box of biscuits on a side table where she would see them as soon as she woke, Astrid let herself back out of the quarters. Her spirits improved the moment she closed the door.

Heidrun's antics since the announcement that she was with child had led two maids to quit their posts, leaving a space their mother had insisted that Astrid help fill. She hadn't had a day completely to herself in weeks, and wanted nothing more than to curl up in her own rooms to savor a few moments where no one demanded anything of her.

As soon as she walked into her family's chambers, she saw that was not to be. Her cousin, Idunn, paced before the hearth, scuffing a pattern of worry into the sitting room rug as her skirts whirled around her feet. Her mouth was set into a hard line, her hands clasped together until her knuckles stood out white. She barely glanced up when Astrid walked into the sitting room.

"What's the matter?" Astrid asked.

"I hardly know." Idunn gestured to the closed door of the study. Muffled sounds of discussion came from behind the door, but Astrid could make nothing of it. "Your father was summoned to Lord Dáin's chambers an hour ago. When he returned, he called your mother to him and shut them both up in there."

Astrid stepped closer to her cousin, who finally stopped her frantic pacing. Her stomach twisted in a knot to see Idunn worry so-if she, who always had such a cool head, were so upset, the situation must be serious. "Do you think it's the trade renewals?"

"If it is, it can't be a very good deal or Destin would have already said so."

"You fear the worst? Could Erebor have cut us loose?" Astrid had never quite allowed herself to think that might truly happen, but the possibility of their strongest trade ties being severed could account for Father seeking out Mother's counsel. Mahal knew, it was only under extreme duress that he ever did so.

"If Erebor has refused to renegotiate, it's final proof that they care nothing for us in the Hills," Idunn said. She turned from Astrid and took up her pacing again. "King Thorin thinks only of his own, as everyone says."

"It could be something else," Astrid said, yet clinging to a shred of hope. "Something happy."

Idunn cut her a scathing look. "Oh yes, happy news from Dáin."

From the other side of the study door the high pitch of Mother's voice broke into the silence. Her words were no more discernible than before, but they sounded excited, almost eager. Astrid was tempted to press an ear to the door, but had just enough sense to refrain. It was a good thing, too, because at that moment the study door opened and Father emerged, with Mother close behind.

Idunn stopped her pacing and suddenly all was quiet save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Astrid had hoped to divine what had sent her parents into such seclusion by their faces, but their disparity only deepened her confusion. Father was grave and solemn, while Mother looked like she might burst into song. The thin, brown whiskers that skimmed her jaw bounced as her cheeks twitched, as though she were trying to contain a grin that desperately wanted to break free and splash itself across her face.

"Astrid, good, you've returned." Father joined the girls by the fireplace, a letter held firm in one hand. She could just make out the ornate sigil pressed into the blood red wax of the torn seal. The House of Durin. Her heart sank at the confirmation. "We have a matter of importance to discuss that concerns you both."

There was a pause in which Father leveled her a significant look. Astrid braced herself for news that the trade agreement had been abandoned, as Idunn had supposed. What they would do then, she couldn't guess.

"You can have no idea what this letter means for us," Father said, shaking the parchment slightly in the air. "It is from the King himself."

He let that information sink in before placing a hand on Astrid's shoulder. "King Thorin has requested a betrothal between you and the Crown Prince."

She had heard but not heard, understood and yet couldn't possibly have. Her knees went weak beneath her and she sat hard on the settee. Marry the Crown Prince? That couldn't be right. Idunn sat down beside her and took up her hand, but that seemed as numb as her legs. Astrid stared up at her father. She didn't have the faculties yet to think of a question, much less ask one.

"He gives many fine accolades for Crown Prince Fíli." Father opened the letter as though he would read the compliments out loud.

"I'm sure we can trust King Thorin's unbiased opinion of his nephew's merits," Idunn said.

"Our family is indeed one of the oldest and most revered in the Iron Hills," Father went on, ignoring Idunn. "There are few to rival us, save Dáin himself. I had expected you to marry well, Astrid, but this surpasses all my hopes."

Astrid's thoughts were too confused to consider her own hopes. Her stomach curled in on itself at the idea of entering into marriage with a total stranger. No, not quite total. The princes Fíli and Kíli had visited the Iron Hills a year or so after Erebor had been reclaimed. Astrid's family had been introduced to them by Lord Dáin at their reception feast. A glance, a smile, a nod of the head were all that had passed between them. It was so little interaction as to be nothing.

Father paced before the hearth as though it were a requirement that someone should do so. "Now, Idunn, you are the eldest maiden in the family, but the letter states that your advanced age makes you unsuited to the Crown Prince. King Thorin asks specifically for Astrid."

Though Father seemed unaware of the slight, Astrid could not be. Idunn was barely over one hundred thirty, not some shriveled old dwarrowdam showing her age. But if his thoughtless comments stung at all, Idunn didn't show it. She looked almost amused.

"Astrid, King Thorin asks that you remove to Erebor for your betrothal. You will live among them, become acquainted with the Crown Prince, learn his ways." He sounded as though he were proposing a leisure trip to observe some rare creature, not outlining the details of an arranged marriage for his daughter. "You will decide if you wish to marry him by the end of the betrothal year."

"She won't possibly choose anything else." Mother finally spoke up. Her unusually prolonged silence had set her to twitching. "Of course you'll marry him, and the quicker the better. Think of it - Crown Prince of Erebor, and one day King."

"Long live King Thorin," Idunn said dryly.

"Of course, of course, but practically speaking, Astrid, you will be Queen." Mother squealed the tiniest bit as she said the word _queen_. "I'm so happy for you, my darling."

Queen? Astrid couldn't think of such a thing yet when the word _betrothed_ was still ringing in her head. How had this happened?

"Now," Father said, undaunted by Astrid's continued silence, "you cannot go alone, you will need a chaperone." Here he turned to Idunn. "Given Heidrun's condition, it would be best if you accompany Astrid to Erebor."

"I, go to Erebor?" The expression Idunn turned on Father was all innocence. "I fear my advanced age makes me too frail for such a journey."

"Don't be difficult." Mother never had much patience for Idunn's impertinence, and her annoyance was on full display now. "I would be only too glad to go with Astrid, but considering Heidrun's state, I cannot think of going for many months. Their timing could have been better, but there's nothing to be done about it now."

For a moment Astrid wondered how Heidrun would react when she heard the news that she had missed the opportunity of being betrothed to the Crown Prince. It wouldn't be pretty.

"I would go with you, myself," Father said, "but business won't allow a lengthy removal, nor, I admit, would I be entirely the best choice. Idunn will do. I will visit you if I am able, to see how you fare."

"My decision is already made, then." Astrid's voice was smaller than she would have liked, but then, she had never felt quite so small before. Despite the pretenses that she was free to choose, she knew there was no possibility of refusing such a request. Who would dare deny anything the King Under the Mountain might ask?

"It is yours to go or stay," Father said somewhat more gently than before. "Though I agree with your mother on this. I cannot see why you should refuse the betrothal. You will have up to a year to decide whether you wish to marry the Prince or not."

He sounded as though love could have nothing to do with the decision. Maybe it didn't.

"What about the trade agreement?" Idunn asked.

Father pressed his lips together. "The letter makes no mention of it."

Her gaze darkened. "So it's to be blackmail."

"And if they had accepted the trade deal as part of the betrothal you would have called it blood money." Father's voice rose in his impatience. "Mentioning it at all could only complicate the offer."

"But if she refuses there's no guarantee the deal will still be on the table."

"If she refuses?" Mother snapped. "Don't be ridiculous. If you think Astrid will get a better offer, you'd best take a closer look around the Iron Hills. Heidrun snapped up the last truly respectable dwarf when she married Bruni."

Astrid and Idunn exchanged a glance. They both knew Mother's definition of _respectable_ in this case meant _rich_. Bruni ate like a rabid orc and had the manners of one to boot, but his family's wealth overrode everything else.

"I had wondered who would come along for you," Mother continued, "and now look! _Crown Prince_." She said the words like he was the answer to all her prayers. Astrid supposed he probably was.

"This union would affect more than just you, Astrid," Father said. "The offer itself is a sign of King Thorin's good will towards the Iron Hills and a wish to strengthen the bonds between us. Lord Dáin himself recommended you to King Thorin. Think how this marriage could benefit your people."

"To say nothing of your family," Mother said. "Think of Heidrun and Bruni - think of _us_. This isn't something to be refused on a whim." She cast a dark look at Idunn, as though Astrid's hesitation were all her fault.

Astrid had little choice. Idunn was right - if she refused, there was no knowing how the King might take such a rejection, and all hopes for the trade deal could vanish in an instant. More than just her own happiness and comfort were at stake.

And then too, Prince Fíli, if she remembered him properly, had at the very least not appeared or behaved like a brute. The same could not be said for many dwarves of her acquaintance in the Hills. Even so, _Not a brute_ seemed a feeble recommendation for a husband.

But how could she refuse and stay on to watch the Hills dwindle all around her, knowing she might have changed the course?

"Do you agree?" Father asked, his eagerness plain.

She nodded her acceptance. Mother clapped her hands for joy and whispered, "Thank Mahal."

Father kissed Astrid on top of her head and placed one hand briefly on her cheek. "Make ready. Your caravan arrives in a week."

She looked up at him, her mouth dropping open at his casual revelation. There had never been a possibility of refusing.

* * *

Late in the evening, Idunn quietly pushed Astrid's bedroom door open. Astrid sat on her bed, bundled up in her nightgown and blankets, reading a book by the light of a lantern's flame. Her brow was furrowed the way it used to do when she was a dwarfling worrying over Khûzdul translations, but her eyes stared right through the page.

"You're awfully quiet for one so recently betrothed," Idunn said as she shut the door behind her. She crept to the bed and sat at Astrid's feet, pulling her own beneath her woolen nightdress. Even in the lantern-light, Astrid looked pale and uneasy. Idunn would, too, if a betrothal to a stranger had been foisted upon her. "How are you holding up?"

Astrid placed a ribbon in her book and clutched it to her chest. Her brow relaxed, but she looked no more at ease. "I don't know how I feel, and I'm not sure it would matter if I did."

"No," Idunn conceded, "it might not. That's the whole purpose, I suppose."

"But why have they chosen us?"

"They have chosen _us_ for our family's good name and long history in the Iron Hills. They have chosen _you_ because Lord Dáin carried word of your beauty and goodness to the mighty halls of Erebor."

"I'm not so good as all that." Astrid picked at an errant thread in her blanket, not meeting Idunn's eyes. "I half-considered packing my things and running away tonight."

"If I had been chosen there would have been no halves about it." They laughed, but Astrid's merriment was short-lived and her countenance fell again.

"Oh, Idunn, an arranged marriage? I never thought of such a thing."

"I suppose few do." Although arranged marriages had once been common among royals, the royal line had been in exile so long the concept had all but died out. Idunn had enough trouble trying to imagine herself married to any of the dwarves she actually knew, let alone one she had never spoken to. It was lucky her _advanced age_ had put her out of consideration. She had to subdue a smile; those two barbed words would keep her pride in check for years to come.

"We know so little of him," Astrid said.

"You will come to know him very well soon enough." Idunn regretted the light tone of her words as soon as they were spoken. Astrid paled as though she had been jesting about the marriage bed. Idunn rushed to soothe her. "I only mean you will have a year to get to know him. I'm sure you'll be confident of your decision by the time it is final."

"I'm not at all sure I understand their terms."

Idunn had wondered at the letter's stipulation that the betrothal remain a private matter until formally agreed upon by both parties. A secret betrothal wasn't in keeping with what she would have expected from a royal wedding, had she ever bothered to think about such a thing. She would rather have expected fanfare, banners, and public proclamations than secrecy and silence. Her confusion was nothing to Aunt Groa's utter disgust at such a request, when the proper thing to do was visit every acquaintance she had in the Hills to boast about her daughter's exceptional match. As it was, Uncle Destin would have a time of it keeping her exuberance and quick tongue in check. What that secrecy would mean for the girls once they were in Erebor, Idunn couldn't say.

"I think it simply means they want both of you to be sure of your choice before it is announced. That means you can still say no."

Astrid didn't look relieved. If it seemed impossible for her to refuse the betrothal request, how much more so would it be to refuse the marriage?

"Do you mind very much coming with me?" she asked. "I'll understand if you'd rather stay here, but I don't know what I would do without you."

"Your remarks are a bit at odds with each other." Idunn smiled fondly at Astrid. "Do you think I would send you off to Erebor with a stranger for a companion? What sort of cousin would I be then? And besides, I wouldn't mind seeing the Lonely Mountain for myself."

Though born and raised in the Iron Hills, Idunn's father had visited Erebor in his youth and had always spoken of his days there with reverence and awe. She longed to see this place of legends and walk its halls, now they were reclaimed for dwarves. A visit to Erebor was a thing she wouldn't miss, even under such unusual circumstances.

"Anyone else would think more of her own wishes than you do, Idunn."

"Anyone else would be dancing in the corridors right now, knowing she is betrothed to the Crown Prince."

Astrid's cheeks flushed pink in the candlelight. There was all the confession Idunn needed-she _was_ delighted by the idea, at least in some small part.

"It's exciting and flattering, but..." Astrid hesitated, and in that moment her delight vanished. "I thought I would marry for love."

The quiet confession made Idunn's heart ache for her cousin. She took both Astrid's hands in hers and held them tight. "You may yet."

* * *

Outside the front gate of Erebor, a great bonfire had been lit, as it had been each night since the kingdom was retaken four years past. The fires were a warning to all that Erebor no longer slumbered, but was alive again with dwarves eager to defend it. Guards stood on duty at intervals, keeping watch in the night. Fíli stared into the flames, listening absently to the soldiers stationed there. Conversation turned where it always did with dwarves tasked on such a lonely outpost: women and food.

It wasn't noble, this hiding out, but Fíli needed a break from the Mountain, and the front gate was as good a place as any. The long journey to Erebor had given him a taste for being out in the fresh open air that he couldn't quite shake. This was one of those times he would have gladly traded his luxurious bed in the royal halls for the simplicity of a bedroll under the shimmering stars, if only it meant peace and quiet.

 _Astrid_. He had no memory of her from his visit to the Iron Hills. Back then his focus had been on securing a portion of the Hills' military might, not on making eyes at available young dwarf-maids. Not that he hadn't noticed them, but he certainly hadn't paid enough attention to tell one from another three years on. How could he have guessed he would ever be called on to marry one of them?

He took a long pull on his pipe. Thorin's letter would have arrived by now, with the caravan of guards following soon after. Fíli had argued with him over that decision, since sending an escort for Astrid before she had time to consider her response was strong-arming her into an agreement. As usual, Thorin hadn't wavered.

"She'll not say no," he had said against Fíli's protests. "I won't have us waste time in waiting." Fíli hadn't quite had the heart to point out that if Thorin were so set on securing his line, the quickest course of action would be to take a wife himself.

Fíli had tried to get Mother on his side, but she had been as unshakeable on this matter as Uncle. "If I hadn't accepted an arranged marriage, you wouldn't exist." He had no reasonable argument to that, and so she had carried on. "What of everything we fought and bled and died for in taking back the Mountain? You are heir to the throne of Erebor, not some miner whose choice in wife has no effect on anything but the warmth of his own bed."

Fíli was eighty-five years old but he still shuddered when his mother mentioned the _bed warmth_. He only counted himself lucky she didn't go into greater detail.

"Here he is." Kíli's voice drifted up behind him, breaking into his thoughts. Fíli's shoulders sagged with the knowledge he had been found out. "My Prince." Kíli bowed deeply in mock adoration.

"Mahal, but some days I miss the anonymity of exile."

Balin walked up beside Fíli and gave him a measured look. "Best not let Thorin hear you say such things. He'll put you to work in the mines, quick as a wink."

Kíli, Balin, and Dwalin made themselves comfortable among the night's guards as though the bonfire were one of their long-ago campsites. Fíli could almost smell Bombur's sausages on the air, could almost hear the racket of snoring dwarves. All that was missing was a pack of orcs dogging their trail.

On second thought, Fíli didn't miss _everything_ about those days.

"You left too soon, Thorin was really on a roll." Kíli stretched his legs out in front of him, just as at ease in the dirt around the bonfire as he would have been on a velvet chaise in his own rooms. "I'd never even heard some of the words he used to describe Bard. I had to write a few of them down for later."

"Thorin's none too pleased with Dale's _leader_ just now." Dwalin lingered on the epithet as though delivering a damning curse. "He's considering suspending trade." He grunted his disgust. "Dwarves may have come from stone, but we sure cannot live on them."

"Thorin's no fool. Let him simmer a day or two, he'll come to his senses." Balin seemed entirely unperturbed by his King's threats. At least someone could take them in stride.

Thorin had no great issue with the Men of Dale, or so Fíli believed. The problem was that Bard often didn't see eye to eye with Thorin on how he should lead Dale, nor was he always receptive to Thorin's thinly-veiled advice. In truth, Thorin was still bitter at the fact Dale had recently become a _kingdom_ of Men.

On top of all this, word had come to Erebor that Dale had reached a trade arrangement with the Woodland Realm. There weren't enough curses in Khûzdul for Thorin to rain down on such a betrayal of the good will between Erebor and Dale. He'd forgiven Bard his perceived past offenses, but nothing could compel him to reach a similar truce with King Thranduil. Thorin would sooner eat his own braids than strike a bargain with the elven king.

"Thorin cannot be angry with Bard for doing what is best for his own realm," Fíli said to no one in particular. "Thorin is king of Erebor, not of Dale."

"Aye, lad, you're right, there, he is king of Erebor." Balin's sly eyes found him out and Fíli regretted speaking up. "Are you not a dwarf of Erebor? Sometimes the one must bend their will for the good of all."

"If it's food we need, I don't mind going into Dale," Kíli said. "In fact, I'll do the trading, if you like. I'm quite good at negotiating."

"Last time you paid more than the going rate for flour." Dwalin's voice rumbled into the night as he checked the mechanisms on his wrist gauntlets.

"Yes, but I've since learned the error of my ways." Kíli seemed almost contrite- _almost_. "Which is why I should be the one to go again, for I would hate to allow anyone else to be taken in as I was."

"That's quite the offer," Fíli said, "but we've all seen the girl who sells the flour. It's obvious how you came to be taken in."

Kíli looked as innocent as if that were the first slight he'd received in his life. "I don't know what you're implying. She asked me to recount my part in the battle and I obliged. Is it my fault that the story got her so excited she was fit to bounce right out of her bodice? Is it my fault she leaned forward ever so tenderly to caress my poor, valiant brow, almost spilling from said bodice in the process? Is it then my fault that I could no longer tally properly and gave her more gold than I should have? I say, no."

Even in the firelight, Dwalin's eye roll was unmistakable. "There's no need for Thorin to set guards over the gold when we can just have this fool march it right over to every buxom girl in Dale."

Kíli pouted. "You make it sound cheap."

"It wasn't cheap, lad, you overpaid. Anyone who pays for a look deserves a knock to the head." The dwarves' laughter rang through the mountainside, echoing back to them in the darkness.

Untouched by the merriment, Fíli smoked and stared into the fire, well aware that if his mother had been present she would have scolded him for brooding. He had some small right to brood just now.

As Balin had said in his gentle rebuke, Fíli well understood that Thorin's wishes were for the good of all. Almost as soon as the Mountain was retaken and Thorin's throne established, Dáin had pressed for a marriage between the royal house and a dwarf-maid of high rank from the Hills. A union between Erebor and the Iron Hills would strengthen the dwarves, tying them firmly together against enemies to the South and East, and uniting them yet again in blood. The logic of it wasn't lost on Fíli, he would simply have preferred to get to know the girl before becoming betrothed, rather than the reverse.


	2. Chapter 2

After a grueling two weeks of walking from dawn to dusk, the caravan from the Iron Hills had finally reached the Lonely Mountain. They had seen it long before they ever reached it, and for days it had seemed to grow no closer. Finally the Mountain had risen up impossibly higher above the scrub and brush that surrounded them until it nearly blotted out the sky. That morning they had passed a watchtower where the soldiers of their caravan called out greetings to the guards before moving steadily on. Now the foothills blocked the view of the Mountain, and they walked through the murky shadows.

Knowing their journey was almost over and rest close at hand, Astrid ached all the more. Every muscle in her body strained from the constant walking, their days only broken up by short rests and heavy meals consisting mostly of potatoes and stale bread. At night her mind would worry over what she would find at their destination until sleep finally overtook her out of sheer weariness.

Mother had nearly had a fit when she realized the caravan sent for Astrid and Idunn hadn't included any female companions. Just the two dwarf-maids and thirty soldiers? How could the King not have sent additional companions to accompany the ladies? Mother had wondered at the oversight at great length and high volume. Tents were provided for privacy and cots for comfort, but this wasn't enough to Mother's way of thinking. Eventually she had had to acquiesce, as she couldn't accompany them herself, and no dwarrowdam of their acquaintance was prepared to take the journey with them to Erebor.

Despite their willingness to carry creature comforts for the ladies, the contingent of soldiers made the journey more awkward than Astrid had anticipated. None among them was friendly, at least not to the women, and conversation with them was scant. She longed to know more about Erebor, about life in the Lonely Mountain, about Prince Fíli, but dared not ask questions of these soldiers with their stern gazes and weary brows.

Each passing day Astrid grew the more grateful that Idunn had agreed to come along as her companion. With her cousin close at hand, she could not wallow in fears of the unknown that threatened to bog her down. If ever her countenance fell, Idunn was quick with an encouraging word to lift Astrid's spirits. And yet, for all the comfort she provided, Astrid knew Idunn had nearly as many concerns about what they would find in Erebor as she had. Despite the mass removals from the Hills, neither had close acquaintance in the Lonely Mountain. With the passing of her father and mother, Idunn's world had already whittled down to Astrid and her family, and now Astrid had asked her to make do with only herself for company.

In the evenings beneath the canopy of stars they recounted all the tales and rumors about Erebor that they could recall as a sort of preparation for their arrival.

"I've heard their library is unrivaled," Idunn had said after supper one evening. She rubbed the muscles in her shoulder, her fingers digging circles into her flesh. Astrid knew the move, for her muscles ached there, too. She had never known any dwarf to ride so much as a pony, but just now she would have been willing to set aside her dislike of animals for a break from the endless walking. "I'll be all right as long as I have a few books."

"If we're listing our wishes, then mark me down for a soaking tub," Astrid had said. "What I wouldn't give for a full bath."

"Oh, don't. Every time you talk of baths, and soaps, and oils I feel another layer of dirt settling on my skin."

They had crossed several streams since leaving the Iron Hills, but the soldiers of Erebor hadn't considered bathing a necessity, and had only stopped to fill water skins. Astrid and Idunn made do with towel baths in their tent at night, but they were still filthy from head to foot.

The sound of rushing water pulled Astrid from her thoughts. They had nearly reached the front gate of Erebor. Mist hung in the air just below the base of the Mountain where the River Running rushed and foamed as it began its course to the south. Great stone dwarves thirty head high flanked the massive gates in a gesture of simultaneous welcome and menace. Astrid's heart seemed to rise up into her chest and stick there, pounding hard against her ribs as though the stone dwarves might come to life and block her way. Despite her quaking knees, a surge of pride made her stand taller under the gaze of the enormous statues. Idunn, too, seemed to take courage as she took in the sight. Whatever else it might prove to be, the Lonely Mountain was hallowed to dwarves.

Erebor's outer walls showed scars from the Great Battle four years past. As they drew closer, repairs in the walls became plain, for the stones did not quite match in size or color. Still, they had been placed with care, and the effect of the massive gate was not diminished for its reconstruction. A line of soldiers were visible standing atop the gate, keeping watch. Up above, guards moved about on the battlements, their presence only hinted at by sunlight glinting off armor.

Before the caravan reached the gate, a small knot of dwarves emerged from it to greet them. Astrid's heart raced all the harder.

"He'll not meet me before I get cleaned up?" she whispered. Idunn only raised her eyebrows in uncertainty before the group from the Mountain reached them.

Five male dwarves approached and bowed low. The guards of the caravan shifted to flank Astrid and Idunn, and the entire contingent bowed as one. Astrid made a curtsy but cringed as she caught sight of her hems all caked in mud.

An older dwarf with silver-white hair stepped forward. "In the name of Thorin, King Under the Mountain, I welcome you to Erebor." He placed one fist on his shoulder and bowed, and the soldiers of Astrid's party did the same. She curtsied again in her nervousness.

The youngest of the dwarves spoke up. "I am Kíli, at your service." He placed one hand over his heart and bowed. His eyes moved between Astrid and Idunn, as though unsure to whom he should address himself. "My brother would have met your convoy personally, but I'm afraid our mother insisted you would prefer to rest from your journey first."

Kíli walked a few steps closer and smiled at them each again, obviously waiting for an introduction. Astrid shook off her reluctance. Like it or not, it was time to act.

"I am Astrid, daughter of Destin of the Iron Hills." She curtsied yet again as she hid her grimy hands in the folds of her dress. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. As the younger sibling, there are very few things I get to do before my brother. Meeting you before Fíli does is an honor I won't soon let him forget."

He winked at her, easing some of her nervousness. The other dwarves of their greeting party might be imposing, but Kíli was not. He was handsome, despite a sparse beard and a puckered scar that ran along his hairline. More than this, his attitude was merry, as though nothing could please him more than greeting their caravan.

While Astrid assessed him, Idunn made her own introduction to Prince Kíli.

"Idunn," he said with another bow, "I welcome you, as well." He looked over his shoulder at the stone dwarves they stood before. "Erebor's front gate is quite the vision, but perhaps you'd like to see your rooms. Shall I show you both inside?"

Astrid and Idunn were swept inside the gates by the tide of soldiers. Astrid suddenly had an odd sense of being watched. Just before crossing the threshold she looked up, but the distance to even the top of the gate was too high for her to make anything out. Once inside, Kíli and the older dwarf who had first greeted them led on, while the other soldiers went about their own business.

If the massive stone guardians keeping watch outside the Lonely Mountain were overwhelming, they paled compared to what was inside. Astrid had thought the Iron Hills splendid, but without comparison, how could she know?

Once, ages ago, her father had shown her the difference between a gem fresh hewn from the mountainside, and one that had been cut and polished for setting. She saw now that the Iron Hills were the uncut gem - they caught the eye, but they were rough. Here in Erebor, every surface glittered and gleamed like the Mountain itself were one carved gem. The floors and walls were smooth to the touch and polished so that Astrid could see her own reflection in them as she passed. Here and there was damage where great rifts had cracked and broken the walls, but as they moved farther into Erebor all such evidence of long-ago destruction was left behind. Friezes and sculptures were set into the walls, balusters and railings were ornately carved, and even the sconces that held oil lamps were worked in intricate designs. Nothing in the Mountain had been left untouched; all shone and sparkled to dazzle the eye.

Kíli and the white-haired dwarf led them through corridors and up one staircase after another until Astrid was so turned around she wouldn't have been able to find the main gate again had she wanted to. Finally they stepped out onto a landing where two guards were stationed outside a corridor. Kíli walked through, nodding at the guards, and turned back to grin at Astrid and Idunn.

Unlike the guards who had accompanied them on their journey, these dwarves wore armor that was burnished to a high sheen. They stared straight ahead with impassive expressions as though Astrid and Idunn didn't exist, their eyes never drifting. These must be the royal corridors, where the King and his family lived.

After a few turns, the older dwarf threw open a door along one corridor. "Here we are."

The room was like nothing Astrid had ever seen before. Every prideful thought she had ever entertained about her family's wealth in the Iron Hills was brought home to her now as folly. The chambers were far finer than her family's quarters in the Hills. There was an area for entertaining, a dining table, a reading space with two plush armchairs, and a massive fireplace. At the far end was a door into what must be her bedroom.

A small laugh escaped her. "This cannot be for me."

"Of course it is," the older dwarf said. "No mistake about it."

"Is it wanting?" Kíli asked.

"Wanting?" Astrid repeated before she remembered that the prince was used to such wealth. She could hardly say what she truly thought without reflecting poorly on her own family's state in the Iron Hills. "No, of course not. Thank you."

The older dwarf nodded to Idunn. "And you, my dear, your room is adjacent." He strode a little farther along the corridor before opening another door and disappearing inside. In a moment he opened a hidden door in Astrid's sitting room and emerged through it. "We thought you might like the convenience."

"That's wonderful, thank you..." Idunn trailed off with a gesture to him to finish her sentence.

"Balin, Steward of the King, at your service." He bowed again. "Your belongings will be brought up from the caravan shortly. You'll find a bell inside should you need anything."

Astrid couldn't imagine needing a single thing in rooms such as these.

"I'll return to escort you down for supper, if that's acceptable," Kíli said. "Until then." He made another elaborate bow and Astrid might have thought his profusion of bows were a sign of stiffness were it not for the wink he gave them as he stood again. Then he and Balin were gone, leaving Astrid and Idunn to explore their rooms in private.

The moment the door was shut, Idunn said, "This is not what I expected."

"Nor I." Though in that moment, Astrid couldn't recall what she had expected. All her imaginings of Erebor had been dashed away by the stunning reality. As she moved through her room in a daze, her feet sank into the thick rugs that lined the floors. She touched the ornately carved furniture, ran her fingers along the plush settee back, and finally gazed at the bookcase in her personal reading nook. A little desk was set into the bookcase, and she riffled through parchment, quills, nibs, and ink pots in every color.

If the House of Durin sought to bribe her into marrying Crown Prince Fíli they were on the right track.

Idunn burst through the adjoining door back into Astrid's rooms. "Have you seen the bath?"

Astrid hurried into her bedroom, paying little attention to the huge four-poster bed or its bright white coverlet, and instead went straight to the large copper tub drawn up in front of the fire. It was already filled, waiting for her. She dipped her hand into the warm, sweet-smelling water.

"It's not right," Idunn said, "owing a debt to Lady Dís before you even meet her."

Astrid didn't care. She was already unlacing her gown.

* * *

Fíli had tried to put Astrid's imminent arrival from his mind. For a while he had even considered the possibility that she might deny the betrothal request entirely and the caravan would return without her. In time he had come around to Thorin's way of thinking - Astrid would come to the Lonely Mountain. Erebor was tempting, and Thorin impossible to refuse. When the messenger came to announce that the caravan from the Iron Hills had arrived, the racing of Fíli's heart was a bit like hearing the call to battle: excitement mixed with a nameless dread of the unknown that lay before him.

Mother had insisted he should not be included in the greeting party. The ladies would prefer not to be met when they were still filthy from the road, and all of that. He had no fear of dirt and would much rather meet his fate head-on, but Mother would not be overruled. He was in his quarters trying to occupy himself with a book when Kíli strode in looking even more smug than usual.

He sank into a chair and kicked one leg over a plush arm, his eyes never leaving Fíli's. He allowed a long, dramatic silence before he raised his eyebrows. "Ask. You know you want to."

Fíli slowly turned the page of his book, refusing to play along with the little game. "I don't know what you mean."

"You wish me to tell you of your betrothed, and well you might, for I have seen her and you haven't. Shall I tell you of her?"

"Is there any way to stop you?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Kíli slouched deeper into the chair until his head lolled against the back. "Your betrothed is a stout lass with fiery red hair to match her fiery personality. I think she'll suit you. Although her cursing caught me off guard, you'll get used to it in time."

"If you are going to lie, at least make it believable."

"Lie? How so?

"Neither of them has red hair."

"Oh no? And you would know this how?"

Fíli tossed his book onto a side table. He'd walked right into it. For an older brother, he stumbled into Kíli's traps far too often.

"You went up on the gate." Kíli's mouth curled into a smirk. "I knew you would, I told Mother you couldn't be trusted. Did she not say the ladies need their privacy while they recuperate from their journey?"

"They could have had no idea I was there." From where Fíli had stood, he'd been able to divine that they were dwarves and little more. "What do you make of Astrid?"

"I'm not sure I want to tell you now." Kíli crossed his arms and looked away like the spoiled child that he was. "You can wait until supper."

Fíli shrugged. "Two hours is nothing."

"Which is why you climbed up to the top of the gate to sneak a glance at her."

"You want to tell me of her, so do." He would in time. Kíli kept no secrets. "Unburden yourself."

"Oh, yes, it's a great burden to have escorted Miss Astrid to her chambers." Kíli paused a moment more, as though waiting for Fíli to break and beg him for information. He must have decided it was better to gloat in what he knew than to wait for that which would not come. "Astrid is a great beauty. Dáin's flowery assessment of her wasn't far off - hair like spun gold, eyes like sapphires, and all of that. I'm surprised you don't remember her from our visit. Mahal, I'm surprised _I_ don't remember her."

"How could I remember? We've been introduced to scores of dwarf-maids these last years." Along with the title of Crown Prince had come a multitude of admirers and their eager guardians, every one desperate for the title of Princess. None of them had suspected the choice of Princess would be Thorin's, Fíli least of all.

"You should have seen her face when we showed her her rooms," Kíli said.

"Was she unhappy with them?"

"She was impressed, genuinely charmed by everything. I don't think you need to worry about her finding fault with Erebor. Whether she'll be so generous with you, I cannot say."

"And the other?" Fíli asked. "Who is her companion?"

"The cousin, Idunn."

Fíli started at this news. Although Idunn was the eldest dwarf-maid of her family, Thorin had decided that she was too old to be a suitable match for Fíli, and had said as much in his letter. This, too, Fíli had protested as inappropriate for all its frankness, but Thorin felt it better to be clear on that point from the beginning rather than invite misunderstandings later. Even so, Fíli had expected Astrid to be joined by a widowed aunt or some such thing, rather than the very one who had been passed over.

"That could be awkward," he said at last.

Kíli shrugged. "She didn't seem bothered."

"Did they look comfortable?"

"As comfortable as may be after a two week journey on foot." From his reclined position, Kíli looked Fíli over. "You might want to prepare for supper."

Fíli straightened his plain tunic. He had planned to change into dress clothes later in the day. "It's two hours yet until supper."

"If you want to be the one found grimy and lacking, suit yourself. Perhaps Astrid's nose will be so full of Mother's sweet bath oils she won't be able to smell you at all." Kíli made a face. "Though I wouldn't count on it."

Furrowing his brow, Fíli ducked his chin and sniffed about. Kíli laughed out loud, showing all his teeth.

Fíli stood abruptly. "Make yourself useful and help draw water for my bath."

Kíli didn't move from where he lounged. "I have no interest in being at all useful and you know it. Though Astrid may thank me for my efforts later."

"Keep it up and there will be nothing left to thank."

* * *

Idunn's fingers worked to set Astrid's hair into a series of elaborate braids pulled to the back of her head. Refreshed from the bath, it seemed all her aches from the journey had washed away along with the grime. She couldn't remember the last time she had indulged in a tub bath filled to the brim. The delicately scented oils and soaps were luxurious, and she had lounged far longer than necessary.

Their personal items had been brought up from the caravan and left inside their sitting rooms while they bathed. Astrid had hung the best of her new dresses up to smooth out the deepest of the wrinkles, and Idunn caught her staring at it with an unhappy expression. She continued to work Astrid's hair, waiting for her cousin to speak up.

At long last Astrid exhaled a little sigh. "It might not be fine enough."

"No, it might not," Idunn said. Astrid tried to turn around to glare, but was stopped by the pulling of her braids. Idunn laughed, unbothered by the state of their wardrobes. "The settees in these rooms are made of finer stuff than our dresses. I'm sure no one will look twice at your dress, Astrid, they'll be too blinded by your beauty to care what you wear."

Astrid smiled at that, but it was plain she still fretted over their garments. One by one, the best seamstresses from the Hills had made their way to Erebor, where dwarves had greater need for such finery and more coin to spend on it. Even their new dresses were not nearly so fine as ones they could have bought in the Iron Hills' market just a few years ago.

"There." She stepped in front of Astrid to examine her handiwork. "You look beautiful."

Astrid gently patted her braids. "Do you think?"

Idunn gave her a hard look. Though genuinely modest, Astrid was well aware of her beauty. Idunn hadn't much patience for dwarf-maids who seemed surprised to receive compliments on their appearance, as though they had never looked in a mirror before. Astrid usually had more confidence, although her current anxiety was understandable. Nervousness coiled around Idunn's own stomach at the thought of meeting King Thorin, Lady Dís, and Crown Prince Fíli, not to mention the nameless others who must join them at court.

In the Iron Hills Idunn had often dined at Lord Dáin's court, first with her father and later with Uncle and his family. Lord Dáin enjoyed entertainment and good food, and made no efforts to refuse his guests either indulgence. As their population trickled away to Erebor, the Hills' celebrations were no longer quite so large but they remained just as hearty. Like their rooms, the court in Erebor could only be more lavish than anything Idunn had known in the Hills.

They changed into their best dresses and tied up each other's laces before taking turns standing in front of the full-length mirror that was set inside Astrid's wardrobe. Astrid, with her pale golden hair and soft blue dress, quite looked the part of would-be princess. Idunn, with darker hair and eyes, was just vain enough to be pleased Kíli hadn't known which of them was the betrothed, and which the aged spinster. Even so, it was a relief she would not be the focus of the evening. _Being as I am so unsuitably old_ , she thought with a smirk.

The last quarter-hour before six seemed to last a week. They paced around Astrid's sitting room lest they sit and crease their dresses all over again. Idunn had little to fear for herself, but she began to worry for Astrid, who clasped her hands together over and over in time with her shallow breaths. It wouldn't do to have her wind up on the floor in a faint. Although, the carpet was so plush, if she had to wind up on a floor it might as well be that one.

Idunn could only observe Astrid's situation, she couldn't experience it, but observation was more than enough for her. How hopeless Astrid must feel, how powerless to choose her own fate and marry as she pleased, _if_ she pleased. Though several dwarves had shown a passing interest in her, Astrid had not yet had a real suitor, and now that opportunity had been taken from her, replaced with a betrothal to someone she didn't even know. Granted, that someone was Crown Prince of Erebor, but his title wasn't making the situation any easier.

After King Thorin's letter had arrived in the Iron Hills, Idunn had allowed herself to feel unhappy and spiteful for only a day. _It could have been me._ Now she was glad the fate she had briefly envied wasn't hers to endure. She would stand beside her cousin, encourage her and give advice if any came to mind, but she wouldn't have traded places with Astrid for all the gold in Erebor.

Astrid's hands were white-knuckled as they clutched each other, and her eyes had a franticness to them that made Idunn ache.

"Ten to one Prince Fíli has a goiter beneath his chin," Idunn said.

That seemed to startle Astrid out of her worry. "You're terrible." There was a pause and her expression crumbled again. "Oh, Idunn, what if he's horrible? What if he _isn't_?"

"There will be no winning with you."

Idunn was spared from giving any more encouragements by a knock on the door.

* * *

Astrid's heart hammered so fast, all she could hear was the sound of blood rushing through her head. She wasn't ready. She had had three weeks to prepare to meet Fíli - to _properly_ meet him - but it wasn't enough, not by half. All the anxiety of a courtship, proposal, and betrothal were wrapped up into the moment of meeting. She stood frozen in place.

Idunn stepped forward. "Breathe," she said softly before pulling the door open to reveal Prince Kíli.

"Good evening." He bowed low. "I must say you two look radiant. I trust you're rested and ready for supper?"

Though she knew she must speak, a nod seemed all Astrid could muster. At her silence, Idunn cut her a sideways glance.

"I've never felt so refreshed in my life," Idunn said lightly. "After such an indulgent bath, I feel I could almost walk right back to the Hills." Astrid's eyes darted to her in shock that she would mention such a thing, but Kíli's mouth turned up into a smirk.

"Myself, I don't put much stock in baths," he said. "If you bathe, then I feel I just bathe, and so begins a vicious cycle of cleanliness. Better to let everyone rest comfortably in their natural state than outdo each other with so much washing."

Idunn laughed outright. "You can't be serious."

"No, you'll find I hardly ever am." He held one arm out to Astrid. "Will you allow me to escort you to the dining room?"

As though walking in her sleep, she stepped forward to take his arm. He offered his other arm to Idunn. "It's been my life's dream to squire two such lovely ladies through the Mountain."

They walked through the corridors three abreast, with Kíli chatting to them the whole way. With such a companion, Astrid had no time for anxious introspection. His steady stream of commentary on everything from the loveliness of their dresses, to the skill of the artwork they passed, to what culinary delights might be served for supper kept her from thinking very much about where they were headed until they reached a set of double doors with guards at either side. Before she was even aware of what they were doing, the guards had opened the doors and she had walked into the dining room.

Erebor seemed determined to confuse and surprise at every turn. After spending the afternoon in sumptuous quarters befitting a princess, Astrid had expected to spend the evening at court, surrounded by dozens of Erebor's most elite residents turned out in their finest dress. She had not expected to find an intimate dining room where but three dwarves stood in quiet conversation.

Astrid's heart seemed to stop as her eyes fixed on the young dwarf with golden hair. He, too, seemed surprised for a moment. They looked at each other across the room and Astrid held a breath as though waiting for a sign from Mahal. Then the moment was broken and he walked around the table to stand before her.

Kíli cleared his throat. "Astrid, may I introduce my brother, Fíli."

Astrid curtsied but could hardly form a coherent thought. Fíli was more handsome than she had remembered, that was all she knew with any certainty. He was broad shouldered and sturdy, and his eyes were a pale blue. The smile he gave her swept the worst of her initial fears away but ushered in a new cause of nervousness.

"Astrid," Fíli said with a bow. It couldn't be wise to choose a husband based on how he said her name, but all other things being equal, she would have married him on the spot. "Welcome to Erebor."

Astrid ducked her head. "Prince Fíli."

"Just Fíli," he said with another warm smile.

"And this is Astrid's companion, Idunn," Kíli said.

Fíli bowed to her. "Idunn, thank you for joining us."

Idunn curtsied but said nothing. She was either too awed by their company to speak or too sensible to say something pert. Astrid guessed it must have been the latter, as Idunn wasn't often struck dumb.

Fíli led them farther into the room where the other two dwarves watched their exchanges with silent interest. They stood beside the dining table, the two nearly a pair in appearance. They both had dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, and something in their expressions that said they weren't entirely pleased with what they saw.

"Allow me introduce my uncle Thorin, King Under the Mountain," Fíli said, "and my mother, the Lady Dís."

Under the steely gazes of Lady Dís and the King, a renewed bout of anxiety washed over Astrid like spiders crawling on her skin. They watched her as though they could see her every flaw and would shortly call her out on each one. Dís greeted her with a measure of warmth, but King Thorin merely nodded. He had an air of superiority that was only slightly less menacing than the stone dwarves at the main gates. Though, of course, he was the king. He had a right to feel superior.

Dís gestured for everyone to take their seats at table. The placing put Idunn at King Thorin's right, with Kíli between her and Astrid. Astrid wasn't sure this was entirely wise, but wouldn't dare question it. Once they were settled, King Thorin made a slight motion with one hand, and waiting servants entered with their first course.

"How was your journey from the Iron Hills?" Fíli asked from across the table.

"It was good, thank you," Astrid said in reflex.

"Was it?" Kíli asked. "The whole two weeks?" He was apparently wise to the fact that the journey from the Hills to the Lonely Mountain on foot could be described as almost anything other than _good_.

"It was tiring," Astrid said more honestly. "I will be glad to sleep in a real bed again. Not that the cots weren't comfortable," she quickly added. "They were very pleasant." Astrid's gaze darted around the table before landing on her plate. She had already broken into a sweat and Fíli had only asked her one question.

"I trust your rooms are to your liking," Dís said.

"They are, my lady. I could not have asked for better." Dís pressed her lips into a smile, but she seemed uninterested in praise for praise's sake, so Astrid tried for specifics. "It was thoughtful of you to provide adjoining rooms for my cousin and I."

"Yes, Idunn." Dís leveled an appraising gaze down the table to where Idunn sat. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you're quite young for a chaperone."

"No, my lady, on the contrary, I don't mind you saying I'm quite young at all."

Astrid froze, fearing Idunn had overstepped and made herself too free, but Lady Dís broke into a broad grin. Idunn tended to say what she thought, which was all well and good in the Iron Hills but would need to be held in check in Erebor. Rumors swirled that King Thorin had no patience for contradiction, which Idunn doled out from a limitless supply.

"In truth," Idunn said, "Astrid's mother would have accompanied her, but her sister's condition doesn't permit it at present. She asked me to come in her stead."

"We welcome you both," Dís said with a nod to each of them.

"It's lucky Astrid has an older relation to step in and take her mother's place." The low rumble of King Thorin's voice was startling, and all eyes turned to him. His impolite comment didn't invite a response, and Idunn seemed chastened into silence.

The meal progressed awkwardly, with stilted conversation on Astrid's part, and a flow of nonsense from Kíli, who seemed to have a story on every topic that arose. Fíli asked all the usual questions about their journey, comfort, and so forth. Astrid's glances down the table reached no farther than Idunn; King Thorin was too imperious to look in the eye. To her immense relief, Idunn didn't try to engage him in conversation, although with such a beginning, Astrid couldn't blame her.

In truth, Idunn's feelings were but a small part of Astrid's concerns. With Fíli seated directly across from her, it was difficult for her to focus on anything else. She studied him in small glances whenever he was occupied with his plate or if his face was turned towards the King. There was something odd in the way he moved his right arm, as though his tunic was cut too tight and hindered his reach. She had wondered on it for far too long before she realized he must have been injured in the Great Battle.

When at last they had finished their meal and the final plates had been cleared away, Dís pushed back from the table slightly. "Now," she said, "as to your betrothal."

Astrid's eyes met Fíli's before she looked away, nervousness unspooling in her chest all over again. She kept her gaze intent on Dís, but it was King Thorin who spoke next.

"Does your presence here, Astrid, signify acceptance of your betrothal to Fíli?" he asked. She could not look at Fíli this time, she merely nodded at the King. "We expect you both to treat this agreement as seriously as if you were already wed - with obvious exceptions." Here he cast a meaningful look at Fíli, and Astrid wanted hide her face for embarrassment.

"All the little formalities," Dís said with a wave of her hand, "the gifts created and given between families, the rings, and so forth will be put aside until the announcement is made."

Astrid had not even considered the finer points of betrothals. It was custom for bride and groom to make a special item for the other's family, as well as forge their own rings for their ceremony. Then again, it was custom for bride and groom to actually know something about each other before their betrothal, so what did the finer points matter?

"The ceremony will take place next spring," Thorin said.

"Only if that is your choice," Fíli added. Those few words from him were more reassuring than all the rest of the conversation had been. Refusing him still seemed an impossibility, but that he gave her the option was a comfort.

It seemed they were all waiting for Astrid to say something. "I understand," was all that came to mind.

"Well," Dís said, "I'm sure you and Idunn are weary from your journey. We won't keep you any longer tonight, but be warned, we often while away the evening together, telling stories and singing songs. You'll be most welcome to join us from here on out."

King Thorin bade the girls goodnight, although he didn't move from his seat at the head of the table. "Let our home be yours. I trust you will find happiness here." In his deep voice, it sounded more like a command than an invitation.

Fíli offered to escort the cousins back to their rooms, a task Kíli insisted that he, too, would very much like to undertake. Kíli and Idunn walked together in the corridor, laughing over something Astrid hadn't heard. Growing up, she had often wished to be more like her older cousin, who could talk to Lord Dáin and his son as easily as she did the tradesmen in the market, and never seemed flustered by anyone. Astrid, in contrast, walked next to the dwarf she might marry and yet felt shyer than she had ever been before.

"I hope you'll forgive my uncle," Fíli said in a quiet voice. "He's been in a bit of a sour mood lately. He's not usually so grave at meals."

"Nor am I," Astrid said.

"Then perhaps all of us will be at our ease, in time." His slight smile of gentle encouragement gave her confidence that they would.

"Do you always take supper as a family?" That she hoped the answer was _no_ could remain unspoken. King Thorin's company did little for her appetite.

"That's our custom. Occasionally we invite a few friends to dine with us in one of the larger halls, but Thorin holds nothing like the courts of old." Fíli glanced sideways at her. "Were you expecting something different?"

"I had no notion what to expect. Lord Dáin is much more..."

Fíli's mouth turned up at her hesitation. "Friendly?"

She was surprised at his frank assessment of his uncle's dour demeanor. "I would have said flamboyant."

"Oh, that is a nice one. _Flamboyant_. I'll remember that."

"I believe you're teasing me."

"Only a little." The look he gave her fairly melted her insides. "But perhaps it's just my flamboyance."

Idunn and Kíli had stopped in the corridor outside Astrid's room. "Oh, no," Kíli laughed, "it will take you at least a month to get used to Erebor, I promise you. Even now I can get turned around in some of the lower corridors."

"I believe you once spent a night wandering the halls, hopelessly lost," Fíli said with a grin over Kíli's misfortune.

"Yes, but that was only so I might become better acquainted with the halls."

"There will be no hope for me, then," Idunn said. "I've already forgotten how to get back to the dining hall we just left."

"Then let us give you a tour of the halls of Erebor," Kíli said with a nod to Fíli. "Who better to show you?"

"Perhaps someone who hasn't been so lost they had to sleep in the corridors?"

"That was years ago, I've got my bearings now. More or less."

"Very comforting."

"I know my way, even if my brother does not," Fíli said. "We would be happy to show you through the halls."

They all three looked to Astrid for final approval of the plan. Of course she agreed. "I would be glad to see more of Erebor," she said, hating how formal she sounded, but pleased by the little smile on Fíli's face at her acceptance.

"Until tomorrow, then." Kíli bowed to each of them as graciously as he'd done so many times that day. Fíli, too, bowed, and cast one last glance at Astrid before departing.

Inside her room, Astrid leaned against the door, her thoughts awhirl.

Idunn shook her head. "There will be no hope for you now."

Astrid's cheeks went hot and she wished to defend herself, although she couldn't think why. "There is more to a dwarf than just looks. It would be foolish of me to get carried away by appearances."

"You are already betrothed," Idunn said with a laugh. "By all means, carry yourself away."

"He is handsome, though," Astrid admitted.

Idunn nodded solemnly. "The fact that he has all his features, and those in perfect order, does help things along, does it not?"

Astrid thought wistfully over every slight gesture he had made towards her. "He seems kind. Did you notice his injury? It speaks volumes of his bravery." Many of the merchants' sons she knew in the Hills would not have fought as Fíli had done.

"And you are lost already."

Astrid shushed her cousin from her rooms before undressing for bed. When at last she tucked herself into the cool, soft sheets, she lay awake late into the night, her heart beating too wildly to rest.

* * *

"What do you think of her?" Long after supper, Dís stood in the doorway of Thorin's study and spoke as though she were continuing a discussion they had just left off. She had a habit of taking him by surprise with conversation, probably because she knew if he saw conversation coming he would go to great pains to avoid it.

Thorin set aside the trade documents he had been reading over, and gestured for her to come in and sit. She would do as she pleased either way, but inviting her in at least allowed him to maintain the illusion that he was being hospitable.

"Astrid is young and attractive," he said. "Beyond this I cannot say."

Dís brushed off his comments as she sank into an armchair by the fire. Thorin knew she cared no more for Astrid's looks than he did. "She seems more sincere than I might have expected of Dáin's choice," she said. "More naive, too, and that's no bad thing."

"Considering Dáin's opinions on many things, I wouldn't rush to judgment." Thorin shifted slightly, trying to stretch his leg in a way that would escape Dís's notice. "Only time will tell what Astrid's true character is. I'm more concerned that the cousin is acting as her chaperone."

Dís relaxed against the back of the armchair, perfectly at home in Thorin's study. It might have been hers for all the time she spent in it. "It's unexpected but not inappropriate."

"You yourself said she was too young."

"I said she was _quite_ young. _Too_ young is an entirely different thing. Dagmar was only a few years older than Idunn when she went with me for my betrothal period."

"Yes, but your handmaid had not been passed over for marriage to your husband when she accompanied you."

Dís narrowed her eyes at him. She always heard more than he said. "What is behind these concerns? You suspect her of something already?"

"I think it would be wise to use caution with her."

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, but retaking Erebor has made you more suspicious than ever. Don't go throwing her from the halls, Thorin, she's just a girl."

"I'm not about to throw her from the halls." He resented Dís's easy accusation, as though such cruelty were reflexive in him. "I simply find her explanation of how she came to accompany Astrid too convenient."

Dís barked a laugh. "Oh yes, the sister's pregnancy was cunningly timed."

"I don't say that."

"You just did say that." Dís jabbed a finger towards him, enjoying her triumph. "And why have you not told me your leg is bothering you?"

"It doesn't."

"I'm not blind, Thorin, you've moved it three times since I came in. What does Óin say?"

Dís meant well, but her persistent questions about his past injuries and current health felt less like sisterly care and more like molly-coddling. He was long past needing tending. So were her own sons, for that matter, but maybe that was half the point of her constant interference.

"Óin has said all that he can say. My leg is as healed as it ever will be." Admitting even that much was hateful. For years he'd indulged a stubborn optimism that his leg would improve with time, but now he had to accept it for what it was.

Dís just watched him, apparently dissatisfied with his answer. Most likely she'd go to Óin to hear his opinion from his own lips. Mahal forbid the healer should give her any instructions. Dís made for a brusque and insistent nursemaid who would heal her charge even if it killed them. He had been on the receiving end of her attentions before and had no wish to endure such generosity again.

He gestured towards the door as though sweeping Dís from his study. Against all expectations, she took the hint and stood to go. "I'll get Óin to make a poultice for you tomorrow."

"I'm confident you have more pressing matters to attend to," he said. "Surely your son's betrothed wife is of more importance than my old injuries."

"I can look after both."

"I only ask you to look after one." His voice was firm, but she just laughed. She had retained a hold over him she'd had from her childhood, that ability to find humor in his seriousness, to laugh when he was grave. In truth he didn't mind, but she was all too aware of her power over him. It was better to pretend resentment than invite the flood of Dís's good will.

She lingered in the doorway, a knowing smile on her face. "Even kings need to be looked after now and then, Thorin."

As soon as she was gone, he rubbed at the knot of mangled muscles in the back of his thigh. As usual, Dís found a way to get in the last word.


	3. Chapter 3

Idunn took breakfast in Astrid's sitting room where they enjoyed a sumptuous meal of scones with cream and jam, porridge laced with sticky brown sugar, toast generously buttered, and strong tea. They would grow round and fat in no time on such decadent fare. Of course, they ate it all.

"What do you think of him?" Astrid asked as she put a dollop of cream on a scone. "Honestly."

"Honestly?" Idunn repeated. "I think King Thorin is unpleasant and I hope we do not often have to meet with him."

"I didn't mean _him_ , and you know it." There was the tiniest pause as Astrid considered. "Fíli said they always have supper together as a family."

There went Idunn's hope for peaceful evenings. It might have been a pleasant family dinner if not for the king. "Then I will have to grow calloused to glares and extended silences."

"But _Fíli_ ," Astrid said, already impatient with Idunn's teasing, "what do you think of him?"

"He seems genial enough. He is somewhat quiet, as though he thinks a great deal more than he says. He could hardly take his eyes off you, though that's no surprise. Nice table manners."

"I don't think Lady Dís or King Thorin like me."

"They've only just met you," Idunn said but Astrid was undeterred.

"You know the look Mother gets when she's dissatisfied with you for some reason, only you're not sure what you've done wrong? That's the way they looked at me all last night."

Idunn couldn't argue the point. The king and his sister might have shown more warmth towards Astrid considering her presence was at their request, but at the same time, they weren't unkind to her in any obvious way. Certainly Lady Dís was more welcoming than King Thorin, but Idunn had already concluded he simply couldn't bother himself with niceties.

"Probably it is just their royal manners, and nothing at all against you," Idunn said.

"Lord Dáin does not behave so."

"I'm not sure I'd use Dáin as a standard for anyone's manners," Idunn said with a laugh. "At any rate, Crown Prince Fíli doesn't seem to share his mother and uncle's lack of interest in you. That should be some comfort, I'm sure."

A sweet smile lit up Astrid's face. She was already smitten with him, that much was plain. "I hardly know how to talk to him, Idunn. I want to ask him everything and wind up asking nothing."

"Put aside _everything_. Try to have a pleasant conversation with him and learn one thing about him."

"You make it sound easy."

"It isn't difficult. Last night I learned that Prince Kíli's favorite dessert is pie made from wild brambleberries that grow only in the Blue Mountains." He had described it so well Idunn wished for a slice, herself.

"Kíli's different."

"Maybe so, but I also learned that King Thorin dislikes tomatoes."

Astrid fumbled her jam spoon until it clinked onto her plate. The stoneware and cutlery were so fine, they made a musical little sound when they met. "When did you speak with King Thorin?" she asked.

"Not once, but I noticed his plate had no tomatoes, and everyone else's did." Idunn had almost remarked on the difference but remembered herself at the last moment. She hardly needed to give King Thorin a reason for the glares he had bestowed upon her, though it might have helped her rest easier knowing their cause. She supposed as king, he needed no cause for his unpleasantness.

"Does your knowledge of others extend beyond their food preferences at all?" Astrid asked.

"I'm trying to help you. Don't be pert, or I'll resort to giving you exclusively bad advice, and at great length."

Astrid hesitated a moment, and her mouth twisted into a slight frown. "Have you ever had a suitor, Idunn?" She kept her voice low, well aware of the baldness of the question.

"None that I liked to encourage." Those days were long before Idunn had gone to live with Astrid's family, back when her father's swords were the most sought-after in the Iron Hills. Sorrow for all she'd lost nipped at her heart, but she pushed those regrets away out of habit.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you advice on love," she said, "but I will gladly tell you what to do on all other matters. As all we _older relations_ must do." She said the last in her deepest voice, with much scowling for effect.

Astrid laughed at Idunn's impression. "That was very wrong of him, even if he is the king."

"I'm sure he's not even sensible of giving insult." It had stung when King Thorin had likened Idunn to her Aunt, but she had brushed it off tolerably well. Rumors had reached the Hills of King Thorin's brusque manners and rough ways, and she knew it wouldn't do to take them personally. At the very least, she was determined not to let the king know if he ever got under her skin. She had been in Erebor only one night and already this seemed like a daunting goal.

* * *

Fíli covered all the usual highlights one gave on a tour of Erebor: The Great Chamber of Thrór, the Main Hall, the Gallery of Kings. He pointed out artwork, sculptures, friezes, and tapestries that lined the walls. Astrid listened to his explanations and made appreciative comments when appropriate, but they had spoken of little else. Kíli and Idunn trailed somewhere behind, the echoes of their conversation that drifted through the hallway a stark contrast to the general silence between himself and Astrid.

He was already failing in his duties to get to know his betrothed and it was only her second day in the Mountain. It wasn't that he could think of nothing to say to her - he had never had trouble talking to pretty girls, and Astrid _was_ pretty. The problem was, he had never been under such pressure when speaking to one before. Every word they spoke was weighted down by others' expectations. Every idle conversation seemed absurd in light of their very serious situation. Every curious question was one more reminder that they knew nothing of each other, that their betrothal was not of their choosing.

He glanced sideways at Astrid, who looked about with open wonder. If she weren't truly awestruck by Erebor then she was more talented at deception than even he could imagine. She gazed at one of the tapestries as though she could drink it in, seemingly unaware he was watching her. He turned to the image, too, trying to see what it was she saw in it. It depicted the Dimrill Stair, a series of waterfalls leading to the dale outside Moria, all silver and green. Fíli had seen this tapestry a hundred times over and never once looked at it the way she did now.

She turned and caught him watching her. Her mouth curved into a slight, tentative smile. He hesitated, and in that moment she turned away again. Another time and he might have given her a devilish grin or thought of something charming to say about beauty studying beauty. Now he just watched her, his caution choking out even the simplest conversation.

Kíli and Idunn caught up to join Astrid in her examination of the tapestry, both of them still grinning from some private joke.

"And here we see beauty studying beauty," Kíli said with a flourish of his hand at Astrid.

 _Ah, yes._ Fíli thought that terrible line had sounded familiar.

"I can't decide which is more lovely. Fíli?"

"The one doing the studying, of course," he said. A twist of Astrid's mouth made him think his response must have sounded a little too forced.

Kíli quirked his eyebrows as though Fíli had fumbled the telling of a joke. "Speaking of waterfalls," he said with a careless gesture at the tapestry, "Idunn and I were just discussing the River Running. Astrid, would you like to see the falls, since your guides yesterday were in too much of a rush to show it to you? I dare say you'll find them more beautiful than these old tapestries." Here he gave Fíli a dark look, as though he had done something shameful. Fíli might as well have brought Mother along.

Astrid agreed to the waterfall scheme and walked alongside Kíli through the corridors, seeming happy to listen to his prattle. She smiled and even laughed, something Fíli hadn't yet gotten her to do. He truly had sunk to a new low if he must envy his brother's way with dwarf-maids. Mahal forbid Kíli tell her about the flour girl.

Not long after they passed the guards on duty at the front gate, Kíli left the main road in favor of the path that led down behind a copse of trees to a grassy area that overlooked the upper falls. The path wasn't steep, but Kíli took Astrid's hand as a completely unnecessary precaution until they reached the riverside. Astrid and Idunn gazed down across the valley floor, their eyes following the course of the silver river as it crashed below, wound down and around the city of Dale, and ran on southwards to the Long Lake.

Life had returned to the valley which had for so long been burnt to the ground by the dragon. Only a few years had transformed the once blackened wasteland. A meadow of green shoots had taken hold, scrub bushes sat low to the ground, and new saplings had begun their climb to the blue sky.

"It's so beautiful," Astrid said. "I would come here every day."

Kíli glanced over at Fíli. The girls knew nothing of the dwarves, men, and elves who had died in that vale. They had never endured the reek of seemingly endless orc bodies burned in filthy pyres whose stench hung in heavy clouds of smoke long after the fires had died out. They had no idea that for months Fíli could hardly stand to come out here, the memories of that bloody day were so clear in his mind. Even now his shoulder ached and he could almost feel the orc blade in his flesh again, hear it scrape across his bones.

If you were innocent of all that, then yes, the valley was scenic.

Astrid and Idunn sat down on their skirts in the grass as the spray from the waterfall cast rainbows in the air. Fíli and Kíli stood back a pace and watched them take in the views.

"You might try to smile," Kíli said in a low whisper.

Fíli bristled at the unwelcome advice from his little brother. He didn't need lessons in how to woo Astrid, and if he did he would never in a thousand lifetimes admit it. "I smile."

"You're almost as bad as Thorin."

"I have smiled several times this morning."

"Oh, _several times_? My mistake."

"What do you want me to do, start work on producing an heir right here?" Fíli hissed.

"Now that would liven the afternoon." Kíli smirked at Fíli over his shoulder before sitting down next to Idunn. He found too much amusement at Fíli's expense these days, but it was easy to laugh at a situation that wasn't your own. Fíli had laughed, too, the first time the idea of an arranged marriage had been presented to him. The concept had lost its humor all too quickly.

Feeling too much like a pouting child standing off on his own, Fíli sat down a little apart from Astrid. When she turned to him, the sunlight shot through her hair until it glowed like threads of gold, and he noticed that her eyes were more vibrant than they had looked in the candlelight the night before. Her blue eyes held a measure of unease, a tentative sort of worry as she looked back at him. He didn't often admit his brother was right, and likely wouldn't do so out loud, but there was no sense blaming Astrid for their predicament. She was just as caught as he was.

He smiled, warm and generous, and she relaxed into a smile in turn.

"Do you often come out here?" she asked.

"Only if we have business in Dale."

"You don't enjoy being outdoors?"

She had either not heard of the Company's long journey to Erebor, or else she completely misunderstood it. In any case, this was hardly the time to tell her of it. "I don't mind the outdoors." A field of death, now that was something different. "Do you enjoy being outdoors?"

She nodded her head, making a pale strand of curls fall across her temple, and she brushed it back behind her ear. "There's a meadow just beyond the gates of the Iron Hills filled with wildflowers of every color." For a moment she looked wistful and he was reminded of what she had given up to come here. "Father didn't often let me wander outside, though. If you didn't stray far from the gates it was safe enough, but...well, sometimes..."

Astrid didn't need to explain. Orcs, even scattered and defeated ones, were unpredictable. Fíli had had no idea just how safe they had been in the Blue Mountains until their Company came East. Despite the victory over them four years ago, orcs were an ongoing concern, however sporadically they might turn up.

"Father only let us go out if we were fully armed," she said.

"I'm glad you trust Kíli and I enough to join us even though you are unarmed," he said. Astrid ducked her head and darted her eyes away from him in a subtle contradiction of his assumption. "Wait - what do you have?"

She shrugged her shoulders but flashed a smile. "Just a dagger or two."

He leaned a little closer to her. "Or two?"

"Better to be safe than not."

He grinned back at her, pleased and surprised at this turn of events. Daggers, no less.

"And you, Idunn," Kíli said. "Have you a sword hidden somewhere in your skirts?"

"It's in my trunk in my room," she said without a trace of sarcasm. "I wasn't sure the king would appreciate me walking around the royal halls with a sword at my side."

"We do it all the time."

"It does feel odd, though," she said, "being outside with no weapon on. Back in the Hills I would take my sword on even the shortest of walks."

"You are safe here," Kíli said. "You're with us." He grinned at the dwarf-maids and Fíli had to roll his eyes. Yes, he and his brother were armed - as was Astrid, it seemed - but they were no longer in sight of the gates or the battalion that guarded it, and daylight was little protection against desperate orcs. Worse, Fíli's sword arm was not what it once had been should trouble arise, and he had not tested it in battle since his recovery. There was no reason for them not to be outside, but safe was a relative term.

"How did you come to choose daggers?" Fíli asked.

Idunn snorted, and Astrid's mouth curved into a wry grin. There was some story here, and he suddenly needed to know it.

"My sister, Heidrun, chose daggers first," Astrid said. "She was terrible with them, flailing all around and never properly defending herself. One day she got tired of me laughing at her and said if I thought it was so easy, I should try it myself. So I did."

"And you were good?"

She scrunched her nose as though _good_ weren't quite the right word. "Better than she was, and that was enough for me."

"I'm sure your sister was overjoyed." He could just imagine being outstripped by Kíli in training. It wouldn't have gone over well.

"You should see the sour look on Heidrun's face whenever anyone mentions Astrid's skills with daggers," Idunn said. "She still takes it as a personal offense."

"So you _are_ good, then," Fíli said to Astrid.

She smiled modestly but then her face fell as though reminded of something unpleasant. "I've never truly been tested," she said.

Ah. So _he_ was the something unpleasant. He and his injury. "May you never be."

"What's that?" Idunn asked as she pointed off in the distance. A line of carts and people moved slowly from the forests in the west towards the city of Dale. Bitterness sank into Fíli's stomach.

"That is trouble," he said. Astrid turned to him again, a question in her wide eyes.

"It appears to be a caravan from the Woodland Realm," Kíli said, not bothering to conceal a look of distaste. "It's nothing, but perhaps we should head back inside all the same."

"Are they friendly?" Astrid asked.

"That depends on who you ask."

"We're not on the best terms with the elves of the Woodland Realm," Fíli said.

"Or any elves anywhere," Kíli said.

Fíli helped Astrid to her feet, holding her hands lightly in his for a moment before releasing them again. They followed the path back up towards the gate, but he glanced over his shoulder again at the caravan in the distance.

"Forgive me," Idunn said, "but are the elves not some of your nearest allies?"

Kíli laughed. "You would think so. But our two kings have long unfinished business with each other. I expect the only way to secure an alliance between them would be if one of them died, and maybe not even then."

"You consider the elves enemies?" Astrid asked.

"No," Fíli said, "we're just on very unfriendly terms."

* * *

"A caravan?" Thorin had been in his council chambers with Balin when his nephews arrived with news of the visitors to Dale. "How many?"

"Some dozens," Fíli said.

"Send envoys to keep watch. I want to see Bard as soon as the elves leave." The man had not yet shown signs of being willing to listen to Thorin in this matter, but anything was possible. "I would know more of this alliance they are forging."

He did not necessarily fear that men and elves would unite against the Mountain again, but friendships among them were yet new - or in the case of dwarves and elves, nonexistent - and men were easily persuaded. Erebor could not afford to leave their own alliance with Dale in jeopardy should Thranduil work on Bard's ear.

"You think it is about more than just trade?" Balin asked.

"I would be content if it were just about trade."

"Content?" Balin laughed. "Not a month ago you threatened to have Bard's head for daring to trade with the Woodland Realm."

"Trade would be the lesser evil, then." Thorin shifted in his chair. "It is not just goods that the elves and men may exchange, but information. If there is a threat on our borders, we must not be left in the dark."

"What do the scouts report?" Fíli asked Balin.

"No change." Balin laced his fingers on the top of the great table in the council room. "Orcs may occasionally be seen here and there amid the trees or near the watchtowers, usually at dusk, and never close enough to bother pursuing."

For nearly two years after the Great Battle there had been no sign of orcs near Erebor or Dale, and Thorin had thought their numbers so diminished as to eliminate all threat. Now they appeared again, rarely engaging in outright attacks, but seemingly unafraid of being seen. Orcs that hid their movements were bad enough, but an orc in the open meant trouble.

"Perhaps it is time we consider pursuit," Thorin said. "Wipe them out one by one if need be."

"I could lead a party," Fíli began, but Thorin cut him off.

"No," he said, "I'll not have you roaming the mountainside seeking out orcs."

"I did it enough in the Blues," Fíli said.

"We are no longer in the Blues," Thorin said coolly.

Balin looked between the two as though taking stock of the situation. "I'll set Dwalin's soldiers to it, then. He'll be glad to stretch his legs again."

The boys glanced at each other. Balin started at his own choice of words and looked as though he would apologize, but Thorin waved him off.

"What were you doing at the river that you happened to see the caravan of elves?" he asked Fíli and Kíli.

"We were showing Astrid and Idunn the views," Kíli said.

"And a battlefield is their idea of sight-seeing, is it?"

"It no longer looks like a battlefield, Uncle. Grass and trees are growing again, even Ravenhill has a dusting of wildflowers."

Of course it would have changed since the last time he had seen it. Much had changed since then. Beneath the council table, Thorin moved his leg to try to ease the ache that continually pulsed through his shredded muscles, but relief was short-lived.

"How do you get on with the girl?" he asked Fíli.

Fíli set his jaw. He either didn't like the girl or he didn't like the question. Neither was encouraging. "Fine."

"Good," Thorin said in a low rumble that let Fíli know he wouldn't settle for anything less. Too much was on the line for either party to back out now. Betrothals weren't traditionally considered permanently binding, but he had never heard of one being broken and he certainly wasn't going to set that precedent with his nephew.

Fíli stared at Thorin as though he had much to say but knew better than to open his mouth. After a moment he turned and left the room. Kíli followed after, muttering something about business he had to see to. When the boys were gone, Balin gave Thorin a pointed look.

"What?" Thorin said.

"A lad can only take so much prodding, that's all I'm saying." Balin gathered up his papers from the table and backed out of the room with an innocent wave of his hands, absolving himself from further discussion.

Thorin sighed and sagged in his chair. He was prodding, but he had been backed into a corner. Fíli didn't understand, not really, but what could he say? That with a lamed King who could not even march into battle let alone lead one, the dwarves of the Mountain grew restless? That whispers swirled that perhaps Dáin should be King Under the Mountain, and not this wreck of a dwarf? Thorin had taken the Mountain back to much acclaim, but it had come at too great a cost. He had dishonored himself under the Gold Sickness, and thrown it off only to be mangled on the battlefield. No, the dwarves of Erebor wanted more from their King. They deserved more.

The only hope for the Line of Durin was to ensure it would endure long past Thorin Oakenshield. If that meant Fíli must learn to accept a wife not of his choosing, so be it.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone reading along!**


	4. Chapter 4

"You are going easy on me." Fíli swung his arm to readily parry Kíli's stroke, and the clang of their swords joined the din of the crowded training rooms. They were only using practice swords, but the old things were still heavy and sharp enough to cut - if there were any chance of being hit.

"I would never." Kíli darted this way and that, but Fíli saw that his arms weren't moving nearly so quickly as his feet. Each swing of his sword was at best predictable and at worst an insult.

They had been practicing less than half an hour and already Fíli's shoulder ached and his arm cried out for rest, but he was determined to prove he could still best his brother. It would be an empty victory, though, if Kíli fought no harder than this.

"I see what you're doing." Fíli lunged but Kíli jumped out of the way as he blocked with his sword. His return feint was on Fíli's good side, and easily blocked. For all his flourishes, Kíli was careful to keep his parries and thrusts well within Fíli's reach.

"I'm doing nothing." Kíli made a show of elaborate footwork but once again when his sword came down it was simple enough to block.

A fire of anger lit deep inside Fíli. He was not so bad off that he needed to be coddled by his little brother. He lashed out, and when his sword came down with more force than they had been using, Kíli struggled to fend it off.

"Fight me," Fíli growled. Surprise danced in Kíli's eyes a moment, but then he threw off Fíli's sword and brought his own around hard. Quickly, Fíli parried before slashing again. Back and forth they went, strike-parry-slash, their swords in constant motion. Fíli was dimly aware of the ache in his arm, the stiffness in his shoulder stretching past the breaking point, but in the forefront of his thoughts was only that he refused to be treated like a dwarfling.

Kíli brought his sword around but Fíli was too slow in his parry, his arm too tense now to block in time. Kíli's blade glanced off Fíli's and struck him hard in the shoulder. The blow was a dull ache with a tiny sliver of fire at its center.

The rage they had expended on one another dissolved in an instant. Kíli came closer to inspect the wound. "It's not bad, but maybe we should get you to Óin."

Fíli would not go to the healer over something so minor. "Just bring me a wet cloth."

His breath came in jagged flames as he sat down in the ring where they had been sparring. Kíli returned in a moment with a cloth and a jar of salve. Fíli pressed the cloth against his shoulder and checked the flow of blood. A line of red stood out against the white cloth, but it wasn't much. He had certainly had worse. Replacing the cloth on his arm, he held it tight to stem the flow.

"Well," Kíli said as he sat on the floor to face Fíli, "I'm wealthy."

Fíli inspected the blood flow again. "What?"

"You told me that if I ever managed to strike you hard enough to draw blood you would give me one hundred gold coins."

Fíli exhaled a laugh. "We were dwarflings when I said that."

"A deal's a deal." Kíli watched him a moment and grew more serious. "What was that about?"

Fíli shook his head. "Nothing. Everything."

Kali waited for a real answer. Where to start?

"Astrid is _armed_." He hadn't been able to get the thought from his mind since she had confided it that first day. "She had daggers on when I haven't worn mine in years. What does that say about me?"

"That you'd better not try anything too forward?"

Fíli wasn't in a joking mood. "We're growing too comfortable, Kíli. We should be the ones out there culling out the orcs, not cooped up in here making sure Thorin's line is well protected from all danger."

"Not that danger cannot come from within the Mountain," Kíli said quietly.

Fíli stilled. "You've heard the talk."

Kíli gave a reluctant nod. A small but vocal faction of dwarves thought the King and his heir weren't battle-ready. Dáin and his son were. It didn't take a very smart dwarf to figure out the conclusions some were drawing.

"Folk worry," Kíli said in a low voice. "Thorin won't so much as walk to Dale to meet with Bard."

"Thorin won't even walk through the halls of Erebor." If Uncle was ashamed of his injuries, he had only drawn attention to them by shutting himself in the royal corridors. The mystery surrounding his health had made it a thing of curiosity and speculation, even Fíli had heard whispers of that much.

"He did win us safety," Kíli said at last.

"Some say that was Dáin's doing." The Lord of the Iron Hills's timely arrival was widely considered the turning point of the battle, and some thought the battle Thorin's fault to begin with. "And if trouble comes again? Who will the soldiers follow into battle? Me? You?"

Kíli had come through the Great Battle mostly unscathed, but he was no captain. If battle should come to the Mountain, one of them - Thorin, Fíli, Kíli - should lead the soldiers who marched out to meet it. And yet, since the Battle they had not been allowed to spear so much as a boar, much less an orc.

Across the training rooms, Dwalin stood talking with a young soldier. Their old mentor was Captain of the Guard now, and trained his recruits mercilessly. It took but a moment for Fíli to make up his mind. With a last glance at Kíli, he stood and crossed the room, careful to avoid dwarves engaged in sparring, knife-throwing, and hand-to-hand combat. When Dwalin noticed him, he dismissed the soldier.

Dwalin nodded at Fíli. "Did your brother best you?"

He had hoped the hit would have gone unnoticed, but Dwalin's eyes missed nothing. "I wouldn't call it that."

"Oh, I would." Kíli had followed and now stood at Fíli's elbow. "Please call it that. I just want to hear you say it one time, out loud."

Fíli ignored him. "Are you selecting soldiers to pick off the orcs on our borders?"

Dwalin crossed his arms. "I am."

"I want to be part of the company."

The look Dwalin leveled at him was all steel. "You just had your arse handed to you by a dwarfling."

Kíli's grin quickly turned into a scowl.

"You know we should be part of this effort."

"Erebor's heir, out on a raiding party? Thorin won't like it."

"No, but the Dwarves of Erebor will." Fíli didn't have to say anything about the rumors of unrest - surely Dwalin was already well aware of them. "And I need it."

Dwalin looked grim a long moment before he broke into a deadly grin. "That you do." He turned to Kíli and clapped him on the shoulder. "What about you, laddie? Do you need to kill a few orcs again, too?"

"As many as it takes."

Dwalin's laughter cut into the noise of the training rooms. "Now we're talking."

* * *

Astrid made a slow circuit of the grand hall as she examined portraits of stately dwarves. That afternoon Fíli had led them to the gallery dedicated to the Line of Durin and his ancestors, where not just kings but their families were on display that they might not be forgotten. Many of the stone sculptures had been in place since Erebor was first cut into the Mountain nearly a thousand years ago, but more recent likenesses had been taken in charcoals and oils. She gazed at the face of a hard-nosed old dwarrowdam who looked back at her with unbridled contempt. The artist had brilliantly captured the dwarrowdam's disdain - Astrid felt censured simply by looking at the painting.

After some study, she realized Fíli stood beside her, watching her with a curious expression as though her interest itself were a mystery. He was obviously not an artist.

"Do you see the family resemblance?" he asked. He furrowed his brow and shot a look of malice at her in an attempt to duplicate the old matron's scowl.

"You do have the same mustache braids."

He turned once again to the portrait and examined it up close. "So we do. They look even more handsome on her."

"Who was she, do you know?"

"Some ancient grandmother, I suppose. To be honest, I've rarely visited these halls. I can only take so much lineage at one time." He grinned, but she thought she saw some truth behind the smile.

"It's a wonder these weren't ruined when the dragon came." These last weeks she had marveled at just how much of the Lonely Mountain had been untouched by the assault. In her youth she had imagined the whole of the Mountain to be destroyed to make room for the dragon's lair, but that was not so.

"There was nothing he wanted in here," Fíli said as he glanced absently around at the stone sculptures and massive paintings. "He ransacked every room he could reach that had gold in it, but a chamber such as this would have been past his notice."

"I'm glad to know a dragon and I have so little in common."

Fíli laughed at her silly commentary. "So am I."

"You wouldn't believe how filthy everything was, though," Kíli said as he and Idunn caught them up. "Cobwebs from here to Moria, rats the size of your head."

"You would make an interesting historian, Kíli," Idunn said.

"Oh, I know the most fascinating things." He turned to Fíli. "For example, did you know that Idunn's charge, here, is an artist?"

Astrid stood the straighter. "I am no one's charge."

Kíli gave her a generous smile. "You are a bit." The implication rankled, but he was too good-natured in his teasing for her to stay irritated with him for long.

"Are you an artist, Astrid?" Fíli asked.

"I draw."

" _You draw_ ," Idunn repeated dryly. "Your drawings rival any of those in the Iron Hills." She turned to Fíli and continued on. "Lord Dáin had his son and daughter sit for her, and the portraits she drew now hang in his private study."

"You have never said that you have such talents," Fíli remarked.

"It's never come up," Astrid said. There was much yet they didn't know about each other, her hobbies among them.

"Do you know, I think I would like to sit for a portrait," Kíli said. "But only if I am assured that you can capture my innate nobility." He stood to full height and glowered down at Astrid as though he were staring down an orc. "I am told it is _very_ innate."

Astrid gave a little laugh. "I'm sure I would do my best."

"Where are your portraits?" Idunn asked them as she glanced around the hall.

"We have none," Kíli said

Astrid looked between him and Fíli, unable to believe such a simple statement. "This entire gallery is dedicated to your House, and you aren't a part of it?"

"Uncle says we can immortalize him after he's dead," Kíli said with a grin.

"But what about you, your mother?"

"I suppose it hasn't been a priority," Fíli said.

"You're the royal family," Astrid said as though he had somehow forgotten, "you should have your portraits here."

"We've had a few more important things to concern ourselves with these last few years." Fíli's voice had a slight edge to it and Astrid realized the impertinence of arguing with him. He had been good and kind so far, but he was the Prince of Erebor, and should not be quarreled with simply because she appreciated portraits and he did not.

"You are right, of course." She turned away to examine the other portraits but suddenly wished to be anywhere else. Her guilty thoughts turned to how much work had been done since Erebor had been retaken - of course they had not had time to think of something as frivolous as a portrait when rebuilding went unfinished.

"If it's any consolation," Fíli said to her softly, "Mother agrees with you. She's a big believer in custom. Uncle Thorin..." He shrugged. "Well, Thorin does as he sees fit."

In time their little group left the portrait gallery and walked lazily towards the Main Hall. The thoroughfare was crowded as dwarves strode about intent on business of one kind or another. The Princes' presence was announced in loud whispers that spread through the hall, gossips and gawkers taking the place of heralds. At first their gazes slid over Astrid with indifference, before they focused on her again with more curiosity. Unasked questions seemed to hang in the air, but for the most part the dwarves returned to their own agendas and left the Princes to theirs.

"Is there anything you have need of from the market?" Fíli asked.

She thought of her well-stocked desk and seemingly unlimited supply of food from the kitchens. "My rooms have been so well outfitted, I cannot think of having need of anything for many months."

He looked doubtful as he considered her. "Nothing at all? I thought all dwarf-maids went to market every week with the express intention of buying something they don't need."

"Just as all warriors go to the armorers' stalls each week to buy another axe they don't need?"

A grin danced across Fíli's mouth. "Everyone could use another axe. Come, let's see what we may find. Maybe something frivolous will spark both our interests."

A buzzing sensation pulsed through her from her own sparked interest as she let Fíli lead her into Erebor's market lanes. The commotion was deafening. The market was the size of the Iron Hills' marketplace three times over. Stalls and tents that sold goods of every sort filled the great cavern. Everything she looked at was a delight to behold - toys, fabric, clothing, stoneware, jewelry. The delicious smells from the food carts were overpowering in their temptation.

They walked slowly through the market, Fíli trying to get Astrid to choose something she liked, and she steadfastly unwilling to do so. He seemed to earnestly want to buy her something, but what he sought out was wholly unacceptable: furs, ornately carved trinket boxes, jeweled beads for her hair. She could not accept such a present from someone she had known barely two weeks, even - perhaps especially - the Crown Prince.

"There must be something you would like," he finally said. "The whole of Erebor's marketplace is at your disposal."

"There is something," she said when her eyes lit on a stall across the market. She made her way through the crowd, hardly noticing Kíli showing off for Idunn by juggling pieces of fruit. The stall Astrid chose was laid out with charcoal sticks in neat rows, brightly-hued inks in cut glass vials, little pots of colored paints, and fine drawing paper. The dwarf behind the table gave her a nod, silently inviting her to examine the wares.

Fíli seemed reluctant to accept her choice as he looked from her to the half-dozen drawing charcoals she held out to him. "This is what you want, is it?"

"These are very fine, and I would be grateful to have them."

The way he looked at her so closely, she thought she had offended him in choosing something so meager. Had she misunderstood his intentions regarding the extravagant offers? But then a slow smile spread across his face. "Then I will be happy to give them to you."

There was a crash behind them as Kíli's juggling act came to an end.

"And it seems we've worn out our welcome anyway," Fíli added.

* * *

Idunn and Astrid hurried their feet along the corridor that led to the royal family's private dining room. After another afternoon of being squired about the halls by the princes they had retired to their chambers to change for supper. Two weeks of wandering Erebor had shown them but the smallest portion of the immense caverns, but at least Idunn felt she could roam about the main corridors and find her way back to her rooms on her own.

The guards opened the dining room doors, and the women stepped inside. Kíli immediately came forward to greet them. "My ladies, it has been far too long."

Idunn found his flirtatious charm amusing. Of the brothers, Kíli was the more outgoing and the less guarded in his choice of words. Fíli seemed always watchful, as though measuring his comments before speaking them. That was no bad thing, but in a palace so formal as Erebor, Kíli's easy-going attitude was a relief.

"How did you manage all this time without us?" she asked. He and Fíli had left them at their chamber doors not two hours earlier, but if he wanted to tease, Idunn would play along.

"I confess, it was a struggle." He grinned again and gestured them towards the table with a sweep of his arm.

As Idunn took her place, King Thorin's hard gaze was on her and she quickly glanced away from him. There had been no alteration in placement since their first night in the Mountain, leaving Idunn between Thorin, who sat at the head of the table, and Kíli, who sat between herself and Astrid. As much as she enjoyed Kíli's company, she did not relish having to endure King Thorin's silent observation at mealtimes. Apart from a handful of grumbled greetings, he had said nothing at all to her or Astrid since the night of their arrival.

"A caravan leaves for the Iron Hills in two days," Lady Dís said as they all fell to their meals. "If you wish to send a letter to your mother, Astrid, they will carry it for you."

"Thank you, I will write to her. She will be happy to know I am well."

"Have you anyone to write to in the Iron Hills, Idunn?" Kíli asked with a saucy bob of his eyebrows.

She hadn't a chance to respond before King Thorin spoke in his low, rumbling voice. "I understand your father was a bladesmith, Idunn."

"Yes," she said, trying to conceal her shock at being addressed directly by the king. He had made such a show of ignoring her, any attention he paid her at all could only be a surprise. "He was one of the finest bladesmiths in all the Iron Hills."

King Thorin's small smile felt more patronizing than appreciative, and it spurred her to go on. Whether that was for her father's reputation or her own, she didn't bother to think. "Folk of dwarves and men came from leagues around to purchase weapons forged by him. Lord Dáin's own sword is of his make. I only wish I could have learned more from him."

One of King Thorin's eyebrows twitched. "You are a bladesmith?"

Now she had no doubt of his condescension, and a spark of fire lit in her chest. "I am. I grew up at his side in the forges."

King Thorin laid down his knife and fork, and clasped his hands before him, his lips pressed into a tight line. His gaze was heavy, as though capable only of finding defect and blemish. She sat up straighter, but turned her face towards Dís at the other end of the table, unwilling to let the king see just how much he unnerved her.

From Kíli's other side, Astrid said, "Idunn made my daggers. They are very fine."

"Ah, you work at silversmithing then." Thorin nodded and picked up his knife and fork again. "Making decorative daggers for dwarf-maids that would snap when put to any real test is very different from forging weapons meant for battle."

The spark in Idunn's chest flamed into anger, but she kept herself in check. It would not do to raise her voice with the king. "Many of the soldiers who came to your defense at the Great Battle wielded weapons that bore my mark. You may ask them whether their weapons snapped when put to the test."

Idunn heard Astrid's soft gasp and instantly regretted her words, if only for her sake. She could not sit idly and accept such derision, even from King Thorin, but neither would she intentionally jeopardize Astrid's match.

King Thorin's eyes narrowed. "Show me."

She paused a beat. "Sire?"

"Show me." His steel blue eyes were cool and steady in their challenge. "Craft me a sword as you have done for so many of the Iron Hills."

His expectation of her failure was evident in his caustic tone. He didn't think she would try. He probably didn't even believe she knew how. Did this King Under the Mountain think he alone could forge a weapon?

"If you wish it." She turned away again.

"I will tell Balin to expect you."

Her heart hammered away in her chest. _Fine. I will make a sword for King Thorin of Erebor._

"I'll show you the forges tomorrow then, shall I?" Kíli asked, cracking a smile.

Idunn opened her mouth to accept when Thorin interrupted. "No. I'll have need of you tomorrow. Someone else may show Idunn the way."

Kíli looked as though he would argue, but the glare Thorin gave him could have dropped an orc. Kíli shut his mouth and returned his attention to his supper. The King Under the Mountain was in a commanding mood, it seemed.

After the supper things had been cleared away, Dís summoned them all to the hearth. "Come, have a seat," she said, "no need to run off so soon. Though with sword-making challenges being doled out, it's no wonder you should want to."

Thorin huffed and crossed his arms but didn't rise to his sister's bait. The girls took the offered seats next to the fireplace, but King Thorin didn't move. He always remained at the head of the dining table rather than join the little party around the fire after meals. It seemed a perfect representation of him that he would keep his distance while everyone else enjoyed themselves.

If the king wanted to be miserable she would leave him to it. His dour demeanor only made her more stubborn in keeping her attitude lively with Kíli and the others. She laughed the louder, smiled the brighter, and talked the longer, hoping it galled him that his attitude hadn't affected hers. By the time she and Astrid excused themselves for the evening, he wore a ferocious scowl that Idunn accepted as a minor victory.


	5. Chapter 5

When Idunn woke the next morning she had one blissful moment of peace before remembering how she had foolishly accepted the king's challenge. She, forge a sword for the king of all swordsmiths? He had left her no choice, as he had no doubt intended: she could either accept the challenge or recant her claims. Not that her claims had been empty boasts, as she reminded herself several times - she _had_ crafted weapons alongside her father, but all that had ended after he died. It had been years since she had held hammer or tongs.

After breakfast she changed into her simplest dress, but even that would be out of place in the smoke and soot of the forges. It had never crossed her mind that she should have use for her old work breeches when she packed her things for Erebor, but she longed for them now. A shirt and trousers would have done just fine.

Astrid looked doubtful as she surveyed Idunn's plain clothes. "Are you really going to go through with this?"

"You think I should have told the King Under the Mountain 'no'?" Idunn asked as she tied her hair into a knot at the back of her head. "Which endeavor would be the more foolish?"

Astrid seemed to consider the point. "I don't suppose there's any way out of it now, is there?"

"None that I can think of." Nothing Idunn was willing to do, anyway. Telling King Thorin _I cannot do it_ was unthinkable.

"What are you going to do?"

"Make him a sword, of course." Idunn already had an idea in mind, and a rough sketch was folded in the pocket of her skirts. She would make him a broadsword, more elegant than was typical kit for soldiers but no less deadly. Or so she told herself. The long years since she had last forged a sword could not have been kind on her skills.

Before leaving Astrid's chambers, she turned to her from the doorway. "I'll thank you not to mention this in your letter to Aunt Groa."

Idunn felt a twinge of guilt in forsaking her chaperone duties. Had Kíli been Astrid's intended she would have never dared leave such an opportunity for them to be alone, but Fíli seemed too prudent to venture to her rooms uninvited. If she were proven wrong...well, she supposed she would have to blame King Thorin. The thought wasn't cheering.

Determined to trust in Fíli's reticence and Astrid's resolve, Idunn set out. She ignored the voice that told her she was being ridiculous to follow through on this promise: she wasn't properly dressed, she had no idea if her vision for the blade would be anything near acceptable to King Thorin, and on top of everything else, she didn't even know the way to the forges.

She was just about to pass the King's council chambers when the door opened. Thinking it to be the king himself, she slowed her step, hoping he might turn the opposite direction and thus avoid a confrontation in the corridor. It wasn't the king, however, but Balin the Steward who stood in the open doorway.

"Idunn! This is a fine thing - we were just speaking of you." Balin smiled at her and bobbed his eyebrows. "Thorin was telling me of his commission for you." He looked altogether too amused for Idunn's liking. Obviously he thought the king's challenge a joke, too.

Standing outside the open doorway, Idunn had full view of the king. Papers and maps littered a massive table where he sat with one leg stretched out straight in front of him. He wore his usual dark tunic that perfectly matched his dark look, despite Balin's joyful remarks.

"I'm not sure I'd call it a commission," the king said.

Every word the dwarf spoke was laced with challenge and threat. Did winning the Mountain win him the right to look down on all other dwarves? Something deep inside Idunn turned to flint to match his own hardness.

"Nor would I," she said with a lightness she did not feel, "for commission implies payment."

Surprise flashed across King Thorin's eyes, but Balin laughed outright. "She's not wrong there, Thorin. A smith must be paid their due." He bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked between the two of them.

"I will pay commensurate with the completed work."

 _He expects me to present him with rubbish._ Anger and wounded pride flared together in Idunn's chest, but she managed to bob a curtsy. "I trust the King to be fair."

King Thorin seemed surprised at this, too, but said nothing.

"We'd best get you down to the forges, then, lass." Balin motioned for her to precede him down the corridor. With a last glance at the king, she did so. They hadn't gone far before she caught Balin side-eyeing her. "Forgive me for saying so," he said, "but you're not quite dressed for a day working over iron."

"I know it," she said with a rueful glance over her dress. "I hadn't thought I would be called on to spend time in the forges."

Balin touched her arm to stop her determined stride. "You don't have to do this. Thorin has his moods, but you are a guest in the halls. No one would think the less of you if you refuse."

He was being overly optimistic. She was certain King Thorin would think less of her if she refused, and more than that, she would think less of herself. "I have no wish to refuse."

"Well. Let's go then."

Erebor's forges were much like those in the Iron Hills, except considerably more vast. The way to them was easy enough to follow once Idunn knew it, for they sat in the heart of the Mountain. A wave of heat and noise washed over her as she and Balin walked into the main chamber. Inside was a tumult of sound and motion. At the center were massive forges for smelting and refining gold, silver, and iron. Dwarves were everywhere, tending bellows, hammering out ingots, and running endless supplies to and fro.

The acrid smell of metal and smoke hung in the air until Idunn's nose stung. She had not ventured into the Iron Hills' forges since her father passed on to the next world, but now all the old familiar sensations assailed her, memory upon memory. How could she have stayed away so long?

Around the huge central forge were dozens of smaller ones occupied by smiths of all types. Balin showed her to a cluster of little rooms set apart from the rest. While the others were rough-hewn and utilitarian, these were just ornate enough to give her pause. She could only guess he had led her to the royal forges.

"We'll get you set up here." He ushered her into a forge not unlike the one her father had used back home. The difference was that here, every smith's tool imaginable to her was hung on one wall, each gleaming in the light of the fire that already burned bright. Ready-made bars of iron, steel, and silver were laid out on one bench, just waiting to be hammered out. Even the anvil looked as though it had been recently polished.

"I'm almost afraid to use these tools for fear of dirtying them."

"We do like to keep the forge in order," Balin said with a smile.

"It looks as though no one has ever used this forge at all." She ran her fingers along the workbench and found the wood smooth and perfectly clean.

"Yes, well, Thorin has had little time for smithing since he became king. But I like to think he'll come down here again, so we keep it ready for him."

"Is this the King's forge?"

Balin gave her a wink. "You _are_ working at his request."

She didn't think the King would much like the idea of her sullying his personal forge, but Balin would accept no refusals. After offering a few last words of encouragement and pointing out the foremen on duty should she need anything, he slipped away.

She pulled a leather apron down from a hook and slipped it over her head. It felt as smooth and supple as though it was new made. Her fingers and arms might not remember the work, but at least she couldn't complain about her materials. All that was left was to begin.

* * *

Astrid sat at her desk and absently traced the lines of a face. With Idunn gone to the forges, this was the first time she had truly been alone since arriving in the Mountain. The first thing she had done was sit down to draw, and only one face came to mind.

She outlined Fíli's wide brow, his strong jaw, the curve of his nose. With short strokes she sketched in his beard, his mustache, the braids set into his hair. Last of all she worked on his eyes. They were always the hardest to get right. Done wrong they were lifeless and dull, but done properly they made the entire drawing vividly real.

She thought of those blue eyes, and how little she knew them yet. Fíli's moods were a mystery to her - at times he was pleased with her, but now and then he was once again distant from no cause she could discern. Sometimes it seemed his thoughts were elsewhere, and her worries that he was dissatisfied with her flooded fresh in her mind.

And yet, those times he was happy with her were too wonderful. When his eyes danced and twinkled with merriment, when his smile was unguarded, when his laughter seemed to fill the whole room - at those times she began to feel she might be able to be truly happy with him in Erebor.

A knock at the door startled her from her musing. Hoping it might be Fíli come to call, and unsure what she should do if it were, she paused only a moment to conceal her sketch of him beneath a fresh sheet of paper. She opened the door to find the Lady Dís standing in the corridor, and had just enough presence of mind to avoid showing signs of disappointment.

"My Lady," Astrid said with a quick curtsy, "what a pleasant surprise."

"I understand your cousin has descended to the forges for the morning. I thought you could use a bit of company."

"Please, come in."

Dís swept into the room, a formidable presence in her own right. Her similarity to King Thorin didn't end at appearances, but in her carriage, her confidence, the way she seemed to expect a level of deference Astrid was not used to showing. Still, she conducted herself with a great deal more friendliness than her brother did, and that made her slight imperiousness less obtrusive to Astrid's mind.

Dís made herself comfortable in an armchair near the hearth and Astrid took up the settee across from her. There was a long moment before Dís spoke. "Well. How do you get on?"

"Very well, my lady. Although I know I've still seen little of Erebor, I'm finding my way through the halls easier already."

Dís leveled a look at her that said they both knew this was not the true question. How were she and Fíli getting on? If only she knew for certain.

"It does take time to grow accustomed to a new situation," Astrid said, more to her skirts than to Lady Dís.

"That it does," Dís said with a nod. She sounded almost wistful as some of her hardness fell away. "I remember when I left home for my betrothal. I was a bit older than you are now, but it didn't make those first days any easier. You'll sort it out in time."

Astrid had not thought that Lady Dís's situation might once have mirrored her own. Just knowing she had experienced the same discomfort and uncertainty eased her mind.

"My son has been through a great deal. Not many years ago he was still like Kíli, careless and carefree. The trouble those two got into." Dís laughed softly but watched Astrid with a steady eye. "Fíli grows more like my brother by the day, and I don't mind telling you I don't like it. But I think, with the right girl, he will find his heart again."

This encouragement was more than Astrid had anticipated. She smiled at that, determined to make Dís's hope her own. The glimpses she had had of Fíli's softer side encouraged her to try.

"Be patient with him," Dís said, "but don't let him get complacent. Speak your mind or you'll never get anywhere."

The gentle reminder seemed to warm Astrid's soul. It was true she had been too worried over first impressions, so afraid to say the wrong thing that she often said nothing at all. She would try to take Lady Dís's advice to heart in future.

"Now," Dís said, shaking off the momentary tenderness she had displayed, "you needn't stay here in your room, you're free to roam the halls and do as you please."

"I thought I was supposed to stay with Idunn."

The tiny smile Dís showed was motherly in its condescension. "She is here as your companion so that you won't feel bereft of friends while you are with us, she is not meant to be your shadow. I would advise caution against being alone with Fíli overmuch, but you are still your own dwarf."

This was a welcome surprise. Astrid loved Idunn but little liked the idea of always having to be under someone's watchful eye. Kíli's joke about her being Idunn's charge had not set well with her, and she was relieved to know it wasn't so. Ways to indulge in her newly discovered freedom were spinning through her mind when there was another knock at her door. Her eyes darted to Dís, who watched her with an arch look.

"Excuse me." Astrid went to the door again, bracing herself for the awkwardness of being visited in her chambers by Fíli while his mother looked on. Should she invite him in or send him away? _Could_ she send him away?

It was not Fíli in her doorway, however, but a servant girl.

"This was sent up for you, miss." She bore a sky blue box tied with a silver ribbon.

"What is it?" Astrid asked.

The girl just smiled and passed the box to her before curtsying and retreating down the hall. Astrid stood a moment with the box in her hands, wondering what it meant.

With laughter in her voice, Dís said, "Best open it."

Astrid brought the box into the sitting area, and rested it on her lap. She carefully untied the delicate ribbon and lifted off the lid. Inside were a dozen charcoal sticks wrapped in thin paper, vials of ink bundled in soft fabric, little pots of colored paints with a set of beautiful brushes, and a fat scroll that held dozens of sheets of fine drawing paper.

Reverently touching each item, Astrid couldn't conceal her pleasure at receiving such a gift. After confessing her simple desires at the market the day before, Fíli had bought her a set of charcoal sticks, and she had thought the gift complete. She had not expected him to give her anything more. His thoughtful gesture sent a sweet warmth through her.

Dís peered into the box and then at Astrid, who couldn't stop smiling. "Well," Dís said, "perhaps he is not so much like his uncle as I thought."

* * *

Damn that elf.

Thranduil's personal envoy crossed the valley between Dale and Erebor at a pace that left just enough time for the soldiers on Erebor's gate to announce his imminent arrival. Now Thorin must hobble through his own halls in an effort to reach the throne room before his _guest_.

"How many soldiers did he bring?"

"A small contingent, two dozen or so." Balin huffed at his side, his feet shuffling alongside Thorin's halting gait. "They are waiting outside."

"Did he say what he wants?"

Balin gave a slight twitch of his head. "An audience."

And _dwarves_ were known for their secrecy. An audience could mean anything. The elf king had only visited Erebor twice since the tentative truce had been struck after the Great Battle, and neither meeting had gone well.

Guards stepped aside as they neared the throne room, and Thorin slowed his steps to conceal his limp as much as possible. Even so, he felt the eyes of the guards on him, watching him for signs of weakness, or so he thought.

Fíli and Kíli were already inside the throne room.

"What does Thranduil want?" Kíli asked.

"I expect we are about to find out."

Thorin took his seat on the new-made throne of Erebor, its crown jewel conspicuously absent from this version. He sat as naturally as he could manage, with his nephews and heirs standing at his side to present a united front. His thoughts drifted back to other meetings with the elf king when Thorin was the second heir, but those memories would do him no good now. Too much had changed.

"Send him in." At Thorin's command, Balin trotted away to summon Thranduil. Fíli and Kíli glanced at one another, their uncertainty made plain in their questioning looks. "You are Dwarves of Erebor," Thorin hissed, "heirs to the Throne of Durin." They stopped their fidgeting and stood firm like stone.

Thorin heard Thranduil before he came into view. The elven king's long silken tunic made an almost musical sound as he walked, and his cloak billowed out behind him like water. His steps were slow and deliberate, designed to make Thorin wait. When at last he reached the foot of the throne, he tilted his head slightly to the side. Not a bow, not a nod - a question. Curiosity.

"King Thorin of Erebor."

Thorin thought he heard an undercurrent of mockery in Thranduil's voice as it echoed through the chamber.

"King Thranduil." Thorin's own contempt was not so subtle.

"I am come from a visit to our ally, King Bard. Dale's renovation continues apace with the skill of elves of my realm."

"And dwarves of mine." Thorin didn't need the update from this elf, his own envoys brought regular word of Dale's progress. "What is it that brings you to my door?"

Thranduil had an uncanny habit of rarely blinking, so as not to interrupt his intrusive stare. "I wish to see if Erebor and the Woodland Realm might also reach a trade agreement."

From the way the words _trade agreement_ rolled off his tongue, somehow Thorin doubted it. "What is it you wish to barter with?"

"Weapons."

This was unexpected. Useless to Erebor, yet still could prove interesting. "I did not know Elves traded their weapons."

"And so we don't. Let us say rather that I have a store of weapons not of our make. Swords, daggers, bows. An ancient blade." Thranduil's eyes were icy as Thorin caught his meaning.

He clenched his fists and dropped his voice low. "You wish me to trade for our own belongings, taken from us unjustly?"

"It seems a fair exchange." Thranduil spoke slowly, as though slicing through the air with each word. "Personal items held without justification."

Always it came back to this. Did he think of nothing else? "Nonpayment is justification."

"Nonpayment!" Thranduil's voice was deadly in his sudden burst of anger. "Thrór asked for three times the agreed-upon price."

"And you didn't pay," Thorin said coolly.

"He had no right. They are _mine_."

"As our weapons are ours."

Thranduil's eyes flashed fire. He took a step forward and all three Dwarves' hands went to their sword hilts. The elven king stopped and seemed to collect himself. His gaze moved up over Thorin's head. Thorin steeled himself, knowing what it was Thranduil was thinking.

Thranduil stooped slightly to draw his face closer to Thorin's own, and his gaze seemed to look right through him. "I've heard how you cast the stone back into the mountain where it was found. I wonder what that cost you. What it costs you even now."

Thorin would not think of that. He kept his eyes steady, his face hard as flint.

"It calls to you," Thranduil said in a voice barely above a whisper. "You can love nothing more than the gem that is lost to you."

"Says one who would have gone to war over a necklace," Thorin said, matching the elf king's low hiss.

Thranduil looked struck, but the moment was gone again in an instant. "You think you have set yourself free of your curse? You will never be free of it. That unquenched longing will haunt you all of your days."

His words cut into Thorin like a knife through flesh, the very thing he feared laid bare. He kept his senses, but only just. "I think our audience has reached its end," he said, his voice dangerous in the quiet.

Thranduil straightened, and after staring at Thorin a long moment, turned and left the throne room. It was a full minute after he was gone before Thorin relaxed his grip on his sword.

"What is it he wants?" Fíli asked quietly. "We have something of his?"

Thorin nodded.

"What?" Kíli asked.

Thorin thought of the white gems set into a necklace that shone like starlight. "Memories."

* * *

 **Thank you for the lovely reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

Fíli ran alongside a group of thirty soldiers of Erebor, moving as quietly as they could at speed in the dark. Orcs had been sighted just after nightfall, skulking about in the trees east of the front gate. Fíli and Kíli had just escorted Astrid and Idunn to their rooms after supper when one of Dwalin's soldiers arrived to deliver his message.

 _Hunting begins tonight. Bring the dwarfling._

They had slipped away to the armory, where they were outfitted along with the rest of Dwalin's chosen company. It had been too long since Fíli had worn mail or armor, too long since his hands had gripped his sword for anything more than ceremony. Even so, he readied himself without fear or indecision, and fell right in line with the others as they filed from the gates. However long it had been since he'd last proven it, he was still a warrior at heart.

Now caught up to where the orcs had been sighted an hour earlier, it was up to Dwalin's uncanny orc-sense to find their prey. He marched at the front of the group with Fíli and Kíli close behind, and the others fanned out in the rear. As Dwalin hunted out the orcs, Fíli's senses buzzed with the sure knowledge of a coming fight. Every sound was louder, every shade of grey in the darkness stood out. Even the faint but rancid orc-stink was noticeable to him on the night air. He hadn't felt so aware since the Great Battle, as though one waking from a long sleep. Finally, after four years, all the life was returning to his body and mind.

Funny it should do so as he was about to bring death.

Dwalin's instincts hadn't led them astray - just ahead, a campfire glowed orange and Fíli counted some dozen orcs standing around it. He had just enough time to look to his brother beside him and exchange nods of mutual encouragement before Dwalin made a signal and, as one, thirty dwarves rushed upon the makeshift camp.

Orc howls rent the air as they took up arms, but the dwarves were already upon them. Fíli swung his sword in a fury, cutting down the first orc he met in a single blow. The second was prepared for him, and slashed at him with a filthy black blade. Their weapons clashed, and in the firelight he saw the creature's foul yellow eyes staring out from its taut, ghastly skin that looked like one already dead. As they freed their swords, Fíli took his chance and stabbed it through the chest. It fell, looking no different in death than it had in life.

In a moment the melee was over, and thirteen orcs lay dead around the campfire. The skirmish had ended so quickly, Fíli almost wished there had been more enemies to fight, but he immediately repented the thought. He knew too well what more orcs could do.

Glancing around the scene, he saw Kíli tending a soldier whose nose was bloodied and broken. Kíli looked up and nodded, but returned his attention to the bloody face in front of him. A tightness in Fíli's heart eased knowing his brother was unharmed. Kíli could hold his own in a fight, but Fíli knew better than to think that was a guarantee against injury.

"You're meant to use your head, not your face," Dwalin shouted across the fire at the injured soldier. He barked a laugh and then whispered low to Fíli as he passed, "Not that it makes much of a difference on that one."

Dwalin checked in with each soldier as he made a quick circle of the small camp. The rest of the dwarves looked mostly unhurt, with only minor injuries here and there. As Fíli glanced around the group of soldiers, a few gave nods of approval, as of welcoming him among friends. Whatever Thorin might say, this was where he belonged, in the thick of the fight.

The orcs were stripped of weapons lest anything be found by the next roving band, and their bodies piled to burn. Spending any extra time with the filth was loathsome, but he knew it must be done. If left alone, their bodies would bring the foulest of carrion-eaters, along with risk of pestilence and yet more orcs. Better to be rid of them, even if the task made his stomach churn.

In the light of the disgusting blaze, he looked over the store of collected weapons. They were mostly of crude orc-make - swords, cudgels, spears, even a small mace - but among them glinted finer weapons of dwarves and men.

Fíli stopped Dwalin after he'd made his inspections of his soldiers. "Did you see the swords?"

"Aye," he said with a glance at the pile of weapons. "Easier to steal a good sword than teach an orc to make one. They're scavengers, the whole lot of them."

"We've lost no soldiers, but what of Dale?"

"After the great battle, these foothills were covered with weapons for any orc to pick up as he fled. Their previous owners are likely long gone."

"We should still check with Bard."

Dwalin shrugged, which Fíli took as a resigned agreement. He knew Dwalin had no great love for Bard, but he wouldn't wish harm on their armies, either.

Dwalin eyed Fíli another moment. "How's your shoulder, laddie?"

Fíli started. He had not thought of his shoulder, stiff or otherwise, since they left the gates of Erebor. It was sore, to be sure, and would probably give him trouble the next day, but it hadn't held him back tonight. Two kills wasn't much of a trial run, but they hadn't been difficult, either. "Much better."

"I thought as much. You just needed to grease it a bit with some orc blood."

* * *

Thorin sat in front of the hearth in the dining room long after everyone else had left. He had taken to staying behind since their guests' arrival, but his lingering this night had nothing to do with them. Peace was difficult to come by of late. His thoughts were too tangled for him to bother trying to sleep, and so he pondered them, staring into the fire.

He had been troubled ever since Thranduil's visit, though he little liked to admit the reason why even in the safety of his own thoughts. Their history went back too far for the elf not to remind him of darker days, both his own and his grandfather's. Thranduil's words echoed in his mind, an endless mockery of all Thorin had tried to put behind him.

People are not always what they seem, he had learned that well enough in his long years. He had watched his grandfather, whom he had revered beyond all reckoning, descend into greed and sickness of heart, to the ruin of all Erebor. Would admitting Thrór's mistakes diminish his memory? When it came to whose claims he should honor, Thrór's or Thranduil's, the elf could never win. It had been difficult enough to admit his own misdeeds; conceding his grandfather's felt like a betrayal. Clinging to memories of him as he once was kept Thorin from dwelling too long on what he later became.

Even Thorin himself was not what he had once thought. The memory of his own disgrace seemed always in front of him. Too many rooms in Erebor were filled with the evidence of his mistakes, too many eyes had witnessed his degradation. Casting the Arkenstone into the Mountain's abyss had seemed a triumph, and diminishing the hoard of gold eased his mind, but scars remained. Could he never live them down? Or was the elf right, would he always bear the marks of his curse?

The dining room door opened and he knew without turning who it was. She could always sniff him out when he was brooding.

"I thought you went to bed long ago," he said.

"I could say the same of you." Dís came in dressed for bed, and sat beside him in the firelight. He hated the idea she had gone searching for him like a lost lamb. "What keeps you here so long?"

Dís was all pragmatism and honesty. She would probably have answers to the questions that beset him, but he knew he wouldn't like to hear them. She would gladly tell him what to do, and he could guess what she might say, but could he then follow through on her advice? No, he could not confide such things as he had been thinking of in her.

Instead he said, "Idunn troubles me."

A smile tugged at her mouth until her whiskers twitched. "Thorin, thinking about a young woman late into the night? This is a surprise."

"I do not think of her for myself," he growled, his agitation flared anew. Of course Dís would leap to such assumptions. "I worry what her designs are."

"Designs," she scoffed.

"Does her relationship with Kíli not bother you? Anyone seeing them together would think they are the betrothed, not Fíli and Astrid."

"Kíli is no more likely to think of Idunn for himself than you are. He's nowhere near ready to settle down."

"She may convince him otherwise. Many more weeks of this and Kíli will be utterly taken in by her. He is already caught up in her liveliness, despite her age."

Idunn's carefree conversations with Kíli had caught Thorin's attention nearly from the day of her arrival. She had no fear of his status, and no shyness that might allow Kíli to overlook her. Her pert remarks and easy laughter suited Kíli's inclinations perfectly. Their talk, though largely empty, amused each other more than Thorin liked.

"It's her liveliness you fear, is it?" Dís asked.

He shifted to better stretch his leg, but it was a pointless effort. "She could be called lovely." If even he had come to think so, surely Kíli already did. The lad had never been shy about his flirtations, and Thorin had had to talk with him about the need for at least a semblance of decorum several times over. His interests ran far and wide, their sole commonality being brevity. Now, though, Kíli seemed to have only the one interest.

"Lively _and_ lovely," Dís said with a smirk. "This is concerning."

"I cannot be more serious. You do not think she is trying to secure the title she was denied?"

"If it's a title she wishes, she would be better off trying to beguile _you_." Dís laughed out loud at the discomfort that must have shown on his face at such an idea. "I may only be his mother, but I promise you, Kíli is not falling in love with Idunn."

"Love need have nothing to do with it." Nor did marriage, if it came to that. Even without the lure of a title, Thorin and his nephews remained the wealthiest dwarves in all the lands. A well-timed hint to a besotted prince could place any number of extravagances in Idunn's pocket.

"Thorin, I think you are wrong in this." Dís was more serious now, but a hint of laughter remained in her eyes.

"One doesn't come so close to so much power and give it up without a fight." He knew better than anyone.

Dís tutted again. "Your solitude has led you to mistake simple friendship for something sinister. They amuse each other but nothing more."

"Even so, I want you to accompany them."

"Me?" She crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes, and he could tell already she would not obey his wishes.

"I think it would be better if another were present, to ensure Kíli and Idunn's relationship does not progress beyond this idle flirtation."

"If you wish the chaperones to be chaperoned, you may do it yourself."

"I cannot - "

"Then let us leave them alone," she said.

"None of this worries you?"

"The only thing that worries me is you tucked away in these rooms, dreaming up deceptions and machinations from the most unlikely suspects."

That wasn't the only thing he'd been thinking of, but the rest was too much to speak, especially when she was in a mood to laugh. _Give him back the necklace_ , she would say, _and be done with it_. Nothing was ever so easy.

Dís stood and put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was gentle, a surprise in itself. "Now stop this brooding and get yourself to bed."

"In a moment," he said. She fixed him with a hard stare, silently shushing him back to his rooms. "Go," he said, waving her off, "I will do the same directly."

"Goodnight, Thorin."

He then proved himself a liar by staying at the hearth late into the night.

* * *

Astrid and Fíli walked arm in arm through the low grasses that covered the knoll in front of Erebor's gates. They had taken to walking outside in the afternoons when the weather was fine, and although they never strayed from the sight of the guards who kept watch at the gates, it still felt more private than their walks in the close caverns of the Mountain. Outside, Kíli and Idunn were content to keep a greater distance, and so she and Fíli could speak more freely.

In their conversations she learned more of his younger years in the Blue Mountains, and saw how living in exile had shaped him. Hard work or a tough fight didn't shake him, and she admired him for his steadfastness as much as his accomplishments. He told her something of the unexpected difficulties in reclaiming Erebor and rebuilding the kingdom to its former glory. Now and then he told her tales of his journey east and some of the wondrous things he saw, along with a few of the terrible things as well.

"I can never look at a spider the same way again," he said. She had clung to his arm a little tighter as he told her of the company's encounter with the great spiders of Mirkwood. "You don't think much of them when your boot can easily dispatch one, but face one with pincers as long as your arm and everything changes."

A shiver ran through her just imagining the beasts. "I had no idea such creatures existed."

"Nor had I. Balin said they came from the darkness long ago."

"Are there any left?" She looked to the west where the forest of Mirkwood lay, a great green smudge of trees as far as the eye could see. Although she'd given the forest little thought since her arrival, it suddenly seemed a dark and forbidding neighbor.

"Yes, but they are kept at bay by the elves who live there. You need not fear them." He placed a hand over hers where it rested on his arm, and his gaze was full of tender reassurance. Her hand trembled beneath his and he pressed it gently. It was unfair, the way a soft look from him could affect her so. But then his tenderness gave way to a playful smirk that quirked the braids at his mouth. "At any rate, you have nothing to fear while you have weapons tucked away in your dress and probably in your hair somewhere."

He was still thinking of that, all these weeks later? She delighted in his teasing but couldn't quite sort him out.

"What?" he asked after she had examined him a moment too long.

"You seem...different, somehow."

"Different good?"

"Yes." His increased merriment seemed the result of more than just their growing ease with each other. Lately he was altered in his interaction with everyone, from herself, to Idunn, to his own mother. He was lighter now and laughter came more naturally, and his eyes seemed always to have a spark of mirth behind them. She could sense the alteration but could not adequately explain it.

He smiled at her but continued walking again, holding her hand firmly on his arm. "I am different, Astrid. I was out of the habit of a great many things until maybe I forgot myself, I don't know."

"But now you have remembered yourself again?" she prompted.

He gave her a mischievous grin. "Without a doubt."

"I'm relieved."

Now he looked far too curious. "I've been that bad, have I?"

"No," she said with a short laugh, "it wasn't that. I thought - " She paused, but it was too late not to speak it now. "I thought perhaps you were disappointed in me."

"Disappointed?" He seemed struck by her confession, and the tender look returned.

"You had no more say in this arrangement than I did." They had spoken little of their betrothal since her first night in Erebor. It seemed oddly improper to mention it, even though it intimately connected them. She didn't like to reveal too much of her growing affections, nor assume too much of his.

"No, you are right. We have been thrown into this together." He looked grave, and in that moment she regretted bringing up the betrothal. She didn't want to hear that he was unhappy in their arrangement. More than anything, she didn't want to hear that he was unhappy with _her_.

"I feel I should apologize to you," he said.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I know it's an honor."

"It's not an honor to have your decisions made for you, to have no say in the course of your life." His voice had an edge of bitterness to it as he looked across the valley towards Dale. "We gave you an impossible choice."

"It was the right choice," she said, sounding more sure of her decision than perhaps she initially had been. "Our lands will be stronger for our union." This last she spoke more quietly for all it implied.

When he turned to her again his eyes were lit with surprise, and she thought she saw a twinge of disappointment there, too. "Is that your only concern? The politics of it?"

The moment seemed to still between them. Despite his casual tone, she understood the importance of his question. It was a question she had longed to ask him, too, but had never yet found her courage.

"No," she said, her voice a whisper on the wind. "Even if it is for the good of our people, I would rather love you before I marry you." The confession embarrassed her, both for the admission that she did not yet love him, and the expressed hope that she might.

A sweet smile touched his mouth. "Then I can be glad I have been thrown into this with you."


	7. Chapter 7

Although Idunn's mind remembered how to work a steel ingot into a sword, her arms certainly did not. Eight years of relative inactivity had left her muscles in a shameful state. Her first day in the forge she had hardly hammered the steel at all before she was exhausted from the effort. It was pitiful leaving a dented lump of a thing out on the workbench where anyone might see it. At least she had the comfort of knowing not many would be foolish enough to peek into the royal forges uninvited, but the thought of it being found was humiliating.

In time, however, her arms began to remember how to do what it was her mind envisioned, and the work came easier. It was still grueling, though, and she accepted a break from her morning routine whenever one came. When Fíli invited Astrid to spend their time together exploring Erebor's vast library, Idunn was willing enough to lay her hammer aside for the day.

The library was easily the size of Uncle Destin's entire chambers back in the Iron Hills, with several rooms offset from the central chamber. Silver oil lamps were set into the walls, with cut glass domes that radiated their light. There were desks for studying, settees for relaxing, and several little iron ladders for reaching the upper shelves.

After much searching among the stacks, Idunn had found a slim volume of the Lays of Belegost and arranged herself in a plush armchair to read. Kíli seemed less than thrilled with their change of pace, and walked about the room like a caged animal. Astrid and Fíli sat together on the other side of the library as they looked over some volume or other.

Whatever had changed between them, their interaction of late gave Idunn more hope for this match than she had yet entertained. Fíli was attentive and Astrid at ease, and while it was not yet enough to build a marriage on, it was a good sign. They had only been together a little over a month - how much more might things change as time went on?

She still watched them out of the corner of her eye when King Thorin appeared in the library doorway. She had thought him imposing enough when seated at the dining room table, but that was nothing to the sight of him looming in the doorway. What he was doing in the library she didn't know, but from the way his eyes roved about the room, it seemed he didn't, either.

After pausing a moment, he walked farther into the library. Idunn realized with a jolt that she had never seen him walk before - always he was fixed in his seat at the dining table or in his council chambers. She saw now that he had a limp, and his right leg didn't move so smoothly as his left. The effect made him look even more dangerous than usual, as though after all he had already been through, nothing could possibly cause him fear.

She noticed that both Fíli and Kíli seemed struck by the king's arrival in the library. They gawked, frozen where they were, and then exchanged curious glances. It was fascinating to watch from Idunn's perspective, although she couldn't guess what it meant.

She assumed he was on some private errand and would go about his own business, but he sat down in an armchair across from her. His flinty eyes were on her as though daring her to have something to say, so of course she spoke.

"Good afternoon, sire."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Idunn."

"Uncle," Kíli said as he took a seat close to him, "I didn't know you would be joining us today."

"I didn't, myself, but it has been some time since I was here last." He looked about him with the air of one in an old familiar place after a long absence.

"Is everything...all right?" Kíli's worry was almost comical. Maybe the king had _never_ been in the library before, for all his nephew's concern at seeing him there.

"Can I not visit my own library?"

"No, yes, of course," Kíli stammered. He made a show of looking away as though suddenly indifferent to the king's presence.

King Thorin's eyes returned to Idunn, so she focused on her book all the harder. So much for her relaxing day off from trying to please the king.

"What are you reading?" he asked her. When she answered the Lays of Belegost, he wanted to know which one.

"Queen Fulla and her daughters."

His brow moved in a curious way. "An interesting choice."

"It's amusing how the daughters all seek Prince Anar's attention, but he loves only war and battle."

"Very amusing," he said in a tone that was anything but amused.

She returned his stare a moment before turning her eyes back to her book. He seemed always to find fault in whatever she said or did, but the fault was never obvious to her. Maybe her reading selection _was_ a tale for young dwarf-maids, but he likely would have had the same response had she been reading a compendium of Erebor's masonry styles. His attitude galled her, even if he was the king.

"How do you progress with my sword?" His sudden insistence on conversation with her was an odd change from the silence she had grown accustomed to at mealtimes.

"Not at all, sire." He looked surprised at the outright admission. Rather than let him revel in the thought she had given up, she hastily explained. "I have never used your forge before, and am finishing a trial piece to get acquainted with it."

A look crossed his face and Idunn flattered herself that he was impressed, however reluctantly. "What is the trial piece?"

"A sword of simpler design than the one I have in mind, and slightly smaller." It pained her to use such bland words to describe the sword she had been crafting for so many days. A smaller piece than his would be, it was more suited to a female's hand, but in the end would be just as deadly as the one she envisioned for him. As a match to his sword, it had crossed her mind to give it to Lady Dís, but she had never yet seen Dís armed.

"I want to see it when it's finished."

"No, sire, for this is just the trial. I don't know yet if it will be what it should be." It would, she was sure of it, but she would far rather present him with the completed sword he had requested than the dwarrowdam's blade he had derided.

He watched her for a long moment. She would have thought she would have grown used to such continual stares and silences, but they still unsettled her, as though he were finding long-forgotten faults to bring out into the light. After some time, he said, "You say you have been working in _my_ forge?"

"Er, yes." It was a poor time for her to be at a loss for words. Incoherent replies would do nothing for his poor opinion of her. "Balin said I should use it."

King Thorin's eyes never wavered, but his expression was unreadable. Was he unhappy, disappointed, angry? Whatever he felt, he concealed it well.

"Maybe I should come check on your progress," Kíli said to her. Then he turned to Thorin. "And report back, of course."

"No," Idunn said at the same time the king did. Their eyes met and she would have smiled had he shown any inclination to, himself.

"A smith should not be bothered at his work," Thorin said. "Or hers. You would do well to practice your own craft, Kíli. When was the last time you forged a sword or axe?"

Kíli made a show of counting on his fingers. "The Blue Mountains?"

"Then it's time to take it up again."

"I make my own arrows."

The king seemed unimpressed with that revelation. He turned his attention back to Idunn. "Are you well settled in Erebor?"

"I am quite comfortable, sire," she said. "There is much to delight in, and everything I have seen is skillfully wrought. Your artwork is very grand."

He made a noncommittal sound as though he cared little for artwork. "What of the company you keep? Surely you have acquaintance here."

Her mouth turned slightly. "I've been in little company other than royal company since we've arrived."

"And?" Kíli asked, his eyebrows raised in a playful tease. "What do you think of them?"

"Everyone has been agreeable," she said, "with few exceptions."

King Thorin's eyes twitched slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication that he minded if she thought him disagreeable. He shouldn't, as he had taken great pains to be so to her.

"Who has been disagreeable to you?" Kíli asked. "I will take him out and challenge him on the spot."

"I wouldn't advise it," she said. Kíli then seemed to understand her meaning, and made a show of looking alarmed before turning his attention elsewhere.

The afternoon wore on, and Idunn read the same single passage of her book over and over. With King Thorin in the room, she couldn't concentrate and the words seemed to slip through her mind without taking hold. Eventually he selected a book, too, but his occupation did not lessen the oppressiveness of his presence. She mused that he was like a dark storm cloud brewing and one only waited for lightning to strike.

Despite all her expectation to the contrary, he remained in the library until the little group left to prepare for supper. He didn't return to the royal halls with them, but stayed seated with his book. When they bid their goodbyes, he just waved them away as though _they_ had interrupted _him_.

Once safely out of sight of the library's doors, Fíli and Kíli exchanged curious glances but said nothing. Idunn could not be so restrained. "Was that unusual?" she asked.

The brothers hesitated, which was answer enough. "Uncle is not often in the library," Fíli said.

"He doesn't value reading?" she asked.

"He does," Fíli said, "he's read even more than Balin, and that's saying something." His rush to defend his uncle was touching, even if the king rarely seemed to deserve such devotion. He shrugged, but Idunn could see he was perplexed. "Like I said, Thorin does as he sees fit."

He did indeed.

* * *

Fíli sat at the council table as trade talks dissolved into argument. As many meetings as they had been through on this, they hadn't yet reached a consensus. Erebor's merchants felt any trade deal would unduly benefit the smaller population of the Hills far more than the Mountain. To their minds, dwarves who elected to stay in the Hills were writing their own fate, and shouldn't be catered to simply because they were stubborn.

"If we receive a portion of iron from the Hills, what then?" asked one merchant. "Do I get the same rates for our ore? What am I supposed to tell my miners?"

"It's not just iron," another piped up. "Steelworks, weaponry, any number of goods."

"What can we get from the Hills that we cannot get here?" asked the first. "I say this as one born and bred there, but it's time to let the Hills die. Extending the trade arrangement will only drag out the death."

"The sooner the dwarves of the Iron Hills abandon them and remove here, the better," said a third. "And Dáin, too, for Mahal knows we could use a battle axe like him on the throne."

Suddenly the table went silent. The merchants all got shifty and looked at the table or each other - anywhere but at Fíli.

"I think that's enough talk for today." He kept his voice deathly quiet. He had no tolerance for slights against his uncle and king, but he would keep his temper in check. Punching a merchant in the middle of trade talks would only make him feel better in the short term.

Balin dismissed the merchants and showed them out of the council chambers. When he sat down again, he watched Fíli warily. "That wasn't the first time you've heard such talk."

"No." The whispers Fíli had caught of similar sentiments were bad enough, but this was the first time such words had been spoken directly in front of him, however accidentally.

Balin sighed. "So you see the predicament you're in. Stitch one kingdom out of two realms. When more than half our numbers were once led by Dáin, well, you can see where thoughts turn."

"What can we do?" Fíli asked.

"Let's see, now," Balin said as he leaned back in his chair. "A renewed trade deal would be a start. A union with a lass from the Hills would help things along, too." Balin's eyes glinted, but his message was clear: they were already doing what they could.

"What about the other concern?" Fíli asked. "They have more confidence in Dáin than Thorin."

All teasing disappeared from Balin's expression. "That side of it is more troubling. Thorin's not the same dwarf he once was since the Great Battle."

"An injured leg shouldn't be enough to make him unfit for the throne."

"No, I don't mean that, lad, it's his heart." Balin paused and glanced around, but they were alone in the great room. "When he first saw you and your brother on the battlefield he thought you were dead. You, run through with an orc blade, and Kíli covered in blood, well what else could he think? I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw you. That was a dwarf who had just lost everything."

Balin slowly shook his head but kept his gaze intent on Fíli. "He's tried to make amends after how he behaved while the Gold Sickness was on him, but he'll never forgive himself for his mistakes. He'd rather die than risk such hurt to you lads again."

"He can't protect us from everything. We are grown and can face our challenges on our own."

"Like night raids on orcs?" Balin gave him a sly look. "I've heard tell the Princes of Erebor have taken their place in the fight, and I'm proud of you lads. But it's only a matter of time before word reaches Thorin."

Fíli knew it. The soldiers wouldn't keep quiet for long, nor did he want them to. Part of the reason for his involvement was to let the dwarves of the Mountain know he would not shy away from battle. The rest was to let himself remember the same. Perhaps that was all Uncle needed, too. "Thorin should join us."

"Aye, that he should. Do you want to be the one to tell him?"

Fíli had to laugh at that. Telling Uncle what he must do was a fool's errand. Even so, the Dwarves of Erebor needed to see that their King was willing to defend them, or talk of Dáin leading them would become more than mere restlessness.

"He grows too close, too confined," Balin said. "In truth, he's more like his dear enemy the elven king than he should like to hear."

Fíli exhaled a bitter laugh, fearing the dwarf who dared say such things to Thorin would lose his head for his efforts. "About the elven king," he said slowly, "he mentioned something at our audience - that we have something of his, something we have no right to. Is that true?"

The elven king's light accusation of treachery had weighed on Fíli. Worse, Thorin hadn't quite met his eye when he asked him about it - there must be some truth to Thranduil's insinuation, or else why would Thorin hesitate? A rage against Thranduil's lies would have set Fíli's mind to rest, but a vague evasion only posed more questions.

Balin's features fell, but he nodded. "I wasn't there, mind, but not long before the dragon came, King Thranduil brought gems to us for our master jewelers to set into a necklace. When he returned to collect them..." He trailed off, seeming reluctant to go on. He drew a deep breath. "It was late into King Thrór's sickness, you see. He didn't want to part with the gems. He demanded three times the agreed price. King Thranduil counted it theft. Neither party has forgotten, as you know."

Oh, he knew. Thorin's hatred of the elf king was no secret, but now Fíli understood some part of Thranduil's side of the bitter animosity. Dwarves and elves had long been divided, but this lingering resentment was personal.

"The gems," he asked, "what were they?"

"White gems, flawless as the stars themselves, or so I heard. The necklace was for King Thranduil's wife, who died before the work was completed."

"And Thorin knows this?"

A grim smile crossed Balin's face. "He knows."

* * *

"So?" Bard said as a maid scampered away after setting out things for tea in Thorin's study. "To what do I owe this honor? It's not often I am invited to Erebor."

"Two kings cannot have a pleasant conversation?" Thorin asked.

"I suppose they may," Bard conceded. "But in my experience, two kings cannot have a meaningless one."

Thorin met with him so little, he easily forgot Bard was no mere bargeman or bowman suddenly turned king. Bard was the rightful ruler of Dale not just through valor but by blood, and the man wasn't swayed by empty words. They were both too straightforward for small talk anyway.

"What news of orcs on your borders?" Thorin asked. "We found weapons of Dale on a small band my soldiers cut down."

"I've had no losses, if that's what you're asking. The orcs are more nuisance than threat, but I don't like them hovering at the edges of our sight. I would like to pursue the last traces of them and wipe them out, but my men can only do so much."

"You speak as though you stand alone against the orcs."

"My neighbors to the north and west care more for protecting their own than working together to eliminate our mutual enemies," he said, his dark eyes keen on Thorin.

"We all suffered losses and have had to rebuild."

"Oh, aye," Bard said, "and how do you think the orcs have been spending their time?"

It was an ill thought that Thorin little liked to consider. Perhaps they were rebuilding their own cursed holes and increasing their hordes. He doubted enough had survived the Great Battle to renew their strongholds, and yet the increased sightings troubled him.

"Was this what you wanted in inviting me here?" Bard asked. "To drink tea and talk orcs?"

So much for his attempt at pleasantries.

"It has come to our attention that Dale has reached an agreement with the Woodland Realm," Thorin said. Bard's easy expression altered slightly - a narrowing of his eyes, a twitch of his mouth, but Thorin saw it all the same.

"Yes, we are on good terms with the Woodland Realm." Bard lifted a mug of tea and drank as though he couldn't be more at ease. He knew exactly what Thorin was saying, but refused to offer more information than necessary.

"I would advise caution when dealing with the Elven King."

"Ah," Bard said with an air of having being affected by Thorin's words. "And should I use the same caution when dealing with the Dwarf King?"

"I want to know that I do not need to set troops between Erebor and Dale."

"I have no quarrel with you, Thorin." Bard set his mug back down and sat up straighter in his chair. "Do not make trouble where none is brewing."

"Where Thranduil goes, trouble always follows."

"I could say the same for another king I know. An attack by a dragon, Laketown's destruction, a battle with every orc and goblin in the eastern reaches - King Thorin brings his own trouble, wouldn't you say?"

"I've duly paid for my mistakes," he said in a low voice.

"In gold, perhaps. Not in actions."

"Not in actions?" Thorin repeated, the insult raising his ire. "Have I not sent masons to Dale for the rebuilding efforts? Have I not signed ample trade agreements with your merchants and farmers?"

"Oh, aye," Bard said, "you've signed papers easily enough. But what of _you_? You've not stepped foot in Dale, not even for my coronation."

Thorin scoffed. "Fíli and Kíli were present, with my blessings."

"And an honor it was, but one might be inclined to take offense at the King of Erebor's absence."

So that was it? Bard's hurt feelings? "One might be inclined to take offense at a great many things."

"Which brings us back to the purpose of this meeting."

"I am not speaking of mere wounded pride," Thorin said, tempering the anger that stormed within him. "Elves and men once came to my doorstep with the threat of war. That is no easy thing to forget."

"Yet you forget you brought that war to your own doorstep."

Thorin clenched his jaw until his muscles ached. What he wouldn't give for an afternoon in the training rooms instead of this useless verbal sparring.

"Look," Bard said, raising his hands as though offering peace, "whatever is between you and the elves doesn't concern Dale. We had trade with the Woodland Realm long before you returned to Erebor, and there is no sense in ending such alliances now. I seek only peace and prosperity for Dale, not anyone else's undoing."

"If you seek an alliance with Thranduil you will find only betrayal."

"Sometimes betrayal takes us by surprise." Bard's mouth pulled into a bitter smile. "And sometimes we see it coming a long way off."

The words were like icy shards in Thorin's chest. "I've known Thranduil longer than you have," he said coolly. "I only thought to warn you."

Bard inclined his head slightly. "I appreciate your concerns for Dale, but in this, I think, they are unfounded."

It was as much as Thorin could expect. Their meeting didn't last much longer before Bard excused himself to return to Dale, leaving Thorin to while away his frustration. All these reminders of his failures seemed to eat away at his insides. He hated meeting with Bard, for the sure knowledge the man would never forget all Thorin had done. He might _forgive_ and move forward, but he couldn't forget simply because Thorin wanted him to. He could still see Bard's face, pleading with him to keep his word and avoid war. His mind might have been taken up with sickness, but every bitter scene of his degradation was still vivid in his memory. Not even the huge stores of gold he had sent to Dale in the last years could bury such thoughts.

Why should Bard put trust in him when he had so thoroughly proven himself unworthy of it?

* * *

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 **Thank you to everyone reading along and taking the time to review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Astrid sat at her desk drawing, where she spent most of her free time of late. An idea had come into her mind and she had been carefully working to render a portrait of Fíli, better than the simple sketches she had done before. Pouring all her concentration into the effort as though the drawing had been commissioned by the King himself, she labored over it whenever she was able until it had taken on a life-like quality. The eyes, she was happy to note, were nearly as vivid as the real thing.

"I can't think where you get the inspiration," Idunn said from over her shoulder.

Astrid set her charcoal out of the way, not wanting to risk harm to the portrait out of distraction. "Do you like it?"

"I think it marvelously like the original." She admired the drawing a moment but then made a face. "Please tell me this isn't going on your nightstand."

Astrid gasped and swatted at Idunn, who moved easily out of her reach. "Hush."

"You are doing rather better together than you were at first." Idunn's sly look said she already knew everything Astrid had been afraid to reveal.

"He is better than I had hoped."

Idunn sat down on a footstool beside her as an invitation to say more. In those first days when Astrid was so awkward and uneasy with Fíli, it felt like foolishness to let her feelings take over too much. She tried to look at the arrangement from a purely practical point of view, and shared with Idunn only the aspects of their relationship that could not be misinterpreted. It grew more difficult for her to maintain that distance now.

"He is kind and funny, but there is strength beneath his good nature. He has been through so much - has Kíli told you anything of their life in exile in the Blue Mountains?"

"Only as it pertains to food and his great skill at archery," Idunn said with a laugh.

"It was a difficult life, they had to build a city from the mountain down." He had no idea how his tales of his simple life in the Blues had caught her imagination. She longed to see Thorin's Halls there, where Fíli had grown up and become the dwarf he was today. "It was much as the Hills are now, small but hardy, full of dwarves determined to make their living any way they could."

"I should hope the Hills are better off than that."

"Fíli is so much more than the coarse miners and dandy merchants's sons I knew in the Iron Hills." The few dwarves who had lightly expressed interest in her back home had seemed well enough then, but they could not now compare to Fíli. "I feel I am beginning to...my feelings are such..."

It seemed wrong to tell Idunn of her growing feelings before she told Fíli, and so she left the words unsaid. Idunn smiled sweetly at her though, the message well understood. "Your mother will be pleased."

Astrid groaned. Another letter from Mother had arrived the day before. In it, she detailed all the ways Astrid should try to gain Fíli's fancy and curry favor within the royal house. She had many tips on methods of flattery and insipid conversation that might draw him in. Mother was certain that playing the coquette would win Astrid a title, but that was a game she would not play. She would win Fíli's heart as herself, and no other - she could not live her entire life playing a part.

"My sister, on the other hand..." Mother's letters regularly lamented Heidrun's 'lowly state' back home since Astrid's removal. As much as she reveled in Astrid's future place at court, she seemed also to regret that the honor had not fallen to Heidrun.

"Yes, I'm afraid your sister will never forgive you for her decision to marry Bruni," Idunn said. "It could have been her wandering these halls and enjoying Fíli's tender looks."

"Do you think they would have chosen her if she'd not yet married?"

"It's possible. Think of how lucky everyone is that she chose to marry Bruni and his fine, wealthy family in the Hills."

For a moment Astrid tried to imagine her sister in her stead, walking on Fíli's arm and dining with his family in the evenings. He would have had just as little say over King Thorin's choice of bride, and would have had to make the best of it, no matter who she was. Guilt crept through her stomach at her own distaste as she pictured the two together. Heidrun could never have been the right match for Fíli.

More than anything, Astrid hoped he would feel that _she_ was.

* * *

Long before he saw Fíli or Kíli, Thorin heard them coming down the corridor, the laughter that rang through the air acting as their standard-bearer. He paused his halting steps to wait them out. When they came into view they made a merry set: the pairs arm in arm, laughing gaily at some private joke. It made little difference that Fíli and Astrid's intimacy had improved, for so had Kíli and Idunn's.

On seeing him standing in the corridor, all merriment in the four withdrew to hidden corners. Their faces fell, their steps slowed, and laughter died as though it had never been. The boys looked mildly ashamed, and Astrid averted her gaze, but Idunn - she returned his keen look with bright eyes, as though she knew of his disapproval and enjoyed defying him.

"Where are you off to?" he asked, his voice sounding harsh even to him in the now-quiet hall.

"We were headed towards the Hall of Tapestries," Fíli answered. "Astrid has yet to see them."

Astrid nodded a silent acknowledgement but quickly glanced away again, her shyness still holding sway. Kíli whispered something to Idunn, who smiled in response. Seeing the two arm in arm so casually - Dís might not worry, but Thorin was no fool.

"I'll join you," he said.

All four looked at him in surprise, their faces comical echoes of each other.

"But Uncle," Kíli said, "it's some way to the Hall of Tapestries and you are - "

"Overdue for a viewing of what our weavers have wrought of late," Thorin said. "Kíli, you lead the way." His nephews glanced at each other, but Thorin waved them on in front of him. Kíli released Idunn's hand from his arm and set off again with less merriment than he'd had a moment ago.

With Thorin now among them, the group's easy laughter was quenched. They didn't even speak to each other for a time, as though they could or should not. Was he such an ogre as to douse all such sparks of enjoyment? He had not always been, but those days were so long ago now as to be dim memories.

He hobbled along at Kíli's slow pace, at once grateful for and offended by it. It was obviously done for his sake - any faster and he would have fallen too far behind. Even this crawl was enough to wear on him, and his leg burned from effort it hadn't known in years.

After leaving the royal corridors Kíli turned down a disused passage rather than the Main Hall. No doubt he would have gone the most direct way had his lamed uncle not joined in, but Kíli knew him well enough to keep his distance of the busy central road. Thorin's limp was a visible reminder of worse weaknesses, and he did not like to be seen so if he could help it. Not that the longer route was preferable, but of the two poor choices, Thorin would choose privacy.

The passage widened, and Fíli and Astrid paused to break away to inspect some carvings set into the the walls. Kíli returned to Idunn with a ready smile and no doubt something frivolous to say at the ready.

"I suppose it would be folly to ask after my sword," Thorin said to Idunn, cutting Kíli off before he could get going again. Acting the ogre came naturally to him, after all.

Idunn smiled but the gesture was more knowing than he liked. "How long does it take _you_ to make a sword, sire?"

He crossed his arms and leveled her a hard look. She was perhaps right to call him out - a good, solid sword could take weeks to complete. Then again, it was possible she wasn't even working on a sword, for him or anyone else. The only way to know would be to go down to the forges to see for himself, and he hadn't visited them since before the Great Battle.

When he remained silent, Kíli spoke up. "It used to take me a good month to make a usable sword."

"You were an amateur," Thorin said, "and still are. Did your trial piece come right, Idunn?"

A smile touched her mouth, but whether it was out of pride or deceit, he couldn't say. "It did, sire."

"How do you find my forges?" It still rankled him that Balin had allowed her to use his - she could have used one of the other royal forges rather than the King's forge. Chasing her out of them would have been petty but well within his rights.

"I confess, they are better than I am used to, and more orderly. My own were always in a bit of a state."

"You don't see the importance of an orderly forge?"

"I may see the importance of one but the maintenance of one is rather more difficult."

She must be the kind who would lose a tool the moment she set it down. He wondered just what he would find if he were to venture down to check on her work. "A well-maintained forge is the mark of a meticulous blacksmith."

"Yes, some are so well-maintained you would think the blacksmith had never been in them."

She quickly glanced away from him, but he bristled at this subtle slight. It was none of her concern how or where he spent his time. "I am not a tradesman," he said in a low voice.

"Nor am I." She smiled as though to cover the barb, but Thorin felt it all the same.

"I did not boast of my smithing skills over supper," Thorin pointed out.

"No, you need boast of nothing, for your skills and accomplishments are well known." Somehow the compliment sounded like scorn when it came from Idunn's mouth.

Kíli had been glancing between them as they spoke but now cut in. "I for one need always boast, for no one ever seems to know just who I am."

Idunn gave him a broad smile. "I'm sure all know of Prince Kíli, Master of Archers."

Kíli grinned and held his arm out to her that they might continue their walk. "Master of Archers," he said, repeating the imaginary title as though trying it on. "I like that."

Thorin huffed out a breath. Kíli would eat up such fawning until he could see nothing but her. What her goal with such flattery was, he didn't like to think.

They had turned down a long corridor that was still a great distance from the Hall of Tapestries. What he needed was a chair, a moment to sit and rest his leg, but he could not bring himself to say so. And so they continued, Fíli and Astrid walking together, Kíli trying to engage Idunn in conversation about every little thing he could think of, and Thorin bringing up the rear as an unneeded chaperone.

Joining them on this walk was not the wisest decision he had ever made. His leg burned with every step until all he could think of was that one mangled leg. Times like these he was tempted to cut it out and be rid of it once and for all. The huge orc mace had struck him behind the knee, managing to impale his thigh and calf simultaneously. When the spikes were wrenched away much of his leg was torn beyond repair. That he could use it at all was a testament to Óin's skills, but even he could not work miracles.

It was all too much - he had to pause and knead at his leg, if only for a moment. As his fingers dug into the knotted muscles he found a brief respite from the mind-numbing ache. Idunn was suddenly at his side, and he straightened again.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked quietly.

"If I want your help I will ask for it," he growled.

She seemed startled but her gaze clouded over again and she left him where he was. He did not need her pity. He had had his fill of that. If he had let her, she would have made a remark that would sound like admiration but at its heart would be veiled condolences for the dwarf he once was. He had experienced it enough before. If he heard one more 'How awful!' in reference to his leg, he just might run someone through, dwarf-maid or not. When they walked on, he stubbornly kept their pace, determined not to give Idunn cause to offer her assistance again. As it was, she seemed willing enough to ignore him in favor of Kíli.

"There is a sculpture similar to this in the Iron Hills." Idunn led Kíli to a frieze of Durin Deathless on his waking. She leaned closer to the wall as she gazed at it, her fingers lightly brushing the carving's ridges. "It's larger, but not nearly so finely done. I almost expect to hear him take his first breath."

Kíli stood close beside her in the little alcove as they examined the sculpture within. "I expect you miss the Iron Hills."

"I admire Erebor very much," she said, "but sometimes I miss home."

Kíli tenderly touched her arm in consolation, a gesture that only confirmed Thorin's suspicions.

"I wanted to ask," she said softly, "I know it's improper..."

"I do enjoy improper questions."

"Do you know anything of the trade renewal between Erebor and the Iron Hills?"

Thorin stepped forward. "What do _you_ know of the trade agreement?"

Idunn looked surprised all over again, as though she hadn't thought he would overhear her. His leg was injured, not his hearing.

"I know my uncle is one of the principal parties on the Hills' side," she said. "And I know how badly we need it."

She _would_ be trying to influence Kíli - as though he had anything to do with trade talks. "They are still in negotiation."

"They have been in negotiation for months."

"And what of that? These things take time, something you cannot possibly understand." Thorin would not talk trade with a dwarf-maid who knew nothing of it.

"I don't understand?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes shining bright in the light of the sconce-flames. "I understand how few merchants remain in our markets. I understand that many families now wait to learn whether they must abandon everything they love. I understand how desperately our people need assurances that the Iron Hills will not be utterly consumed by Erebor."

After she had had her say, she glared at him, but he noticed a slight alteration in her expression. Perhaps she was ashamed of her outburst, but he doubted it. In a lower, but no less bitter tone, she said, "Surely you can understand the desire to preserve your homeland." As an afterthought she added, "Sire." Then she turned away and returned to Kíli, who had watched the exchange without comment. He need say nothing, for Thorin could see that Kíli thought him in the wrong.

Thorin turned to go back the way they had come, and Kíli's voice called after him. "Uncle?"

"Go," Thorin ordered, raising a hand but not looking over his shoulder. "I have no wish to see tapestries today."

He fumed away, but slowed his pace when he was sure to be out of sight of the others. His anger with Idunn's impertinence was soon swallowed up in irritation over what she had said. The Iron Hills, consumed by Erebor? Is that what she thought was happening? Is that what folk in the Hills thought? The whole point of arranging this marriage between Fíli and Astrid was to avoid such a thing, surely even this slip of a girl knew that.

He pondered her words as he walked on, pausing now and then to let his leg rest. Dáin had never made reference to a lack of goods in the Hills, but as he considered the matter, this didn't necessarily make Idunn's words untrue. More than half of the Hills had already emptied to Erebor, naturally bringing much of their business with them. Dáin would not reveal a weakness if he could help it, and certainly not in the middle of negotiations.

And yet, were they not kin? Should Dáin not tell Thorin of the Iron Hills' needs? Or would he suppose him to use that information to his advantage, to press Erebor's cause and give the Hills the short end of the trade agreement? That even his cousin supposed him to be so greedy wore on him more heavily than any heated words from Idunn.

* * *

"What happened to Thorin?" Fíli asked. On hearing his uncle's severe voice echoing down the corridor, he and Astrid had turned back but only Kíli and Idunn could be found.

Kíli gave him a significant look. "He changed his mind about the tapestries."

Of course he did. To Fíli's knowledge, he'd not walked so far in one go since before his injury. If Idunn's grimace were any indication, he'd dashed off a few sharp words before he left, too. He was always in a sour mood when his leg pained him, and liable to find fault with the slightest thing. Why he thought to join them on their walk at all was anyone's guess.

"I fear I owe you an apology on my uncle's behalf," he said to Idunn. "When Thorin gets into a temper, he forgets that the rest of us are not made of the same steel that he is."

"No, not at all." She seemed to shake off her reaction to whatever Thorin had said to her. "We were only talking about the Iron Hills."

He glanced to Kíli, who shrugged a shoulder. If Idunn were unbothered - or wished to pretend to be - he would let the matter drop.

"Shall we keep going then?" Kíli offered his arm to her. "I'm not daunted by the prospect of moldy old wall hangings." She took his arm and the four walked on again together.

"Is the king upset?" Astrid asked softly.

"Probably. Why, I cannot say. Thorin gets in moods." He hardly needed to elaborate, for all she and Idunn had seen of his behavior. "He wasn't always this way."

True, Thorin had always had a bit of a streak of single-minded disregard for others' feelings, but it had grown worse since he had retaken Erebor. Fíli would like to count it a result of the weight of being King Under the Mountain, but he hadn't forgotten his conversation with Balin. If Thorin regretted his past mistakes, being rude and resentful wasn't likely to make folk overlook them.

"He still had a sense of humor in the Blues," Kíli said.

"Do you remember the time -" Fíli began, but stopped and shook his head at the memory.

"What?" Astrid said at his side. "Tell us the story."

He laughed before he'd even begun. "Oh, we were young and stupid. I was perhaps eleven. Thorin was out leading a hunting party, and Kíli and I -"

Kíli had caught on to the memory and started laughing, too. "I'm surprised he didn't beat us senseless."

"What could you have done to deserve that?" Astrid asked.

"You're so innocent."

"Thorin was gone," Fíli went on, "he'd been gone for days and we'd long run through Mother's patience."

"If Thorin and Dwalin were away, we couldn't be trusted to behave," Kíli said.

"Not that we didn't respect Mother," Fíli said, "but we fell into line far easier when the threat of Thorin was close at hand."

"I think you've lost sight of the story," Idunn said.

"Yes," Fíli said, "so Thorin was away, we'd already explored every mildly forbidden thing we could think of, and we decided to nose around in the throne room."

"You were definitely old enough to know better," Kíli said, pointing a finger at him. "I only followed your lead."

" _Anyway_ , there wasn't all that much to see. Thorin hated the throne room in the Blues, said it wasn't a true kingdom so what was the point of a throne? It was dark and empty except for the throne itself."

"One of us got the idea to mimic Thorin," Kíli said, still pointing a finger his direction.

"Yes, I started it. I stood on the throne," he said, pausing when Astrid gasped at his long-ago impudence. "I used the deepest voice I could and I loudly announced, 'I declare Fíli the bravest dwarf in the Ered Luin'."

"I jumped up alongside him," Kíli said through his laughter, "and bellowed, 'I declare Kíli the smartest dwarf in the Ered Luin'."

"And then from the shadows we heard, 'I declare Thorin the most irritated dwarf in the Ered Luin'."

"No," Astrid breathed.

"What did you do?" Idunn asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I was too terrified to do anything. All I could think of were lashings and being forced to work in the mines and how angry Mother would be."

"I half hoped my heart had stopped and I was dead already," Kíli said with a laugh.

"He walked into the center of the room where we were still standing on top of the throne like fools. He crooked a finger and we hopped down. 'Do you know what happened to the last dwarfling who dared stand atop a throne?' he asked."

Fíli paused, briefly enjoying the look of worry on Astrid's face. She was clearly imagining some terrible punishment, just as he had done all those years ago.

"'He became king', Thorin said. Then he led us out of the room and said if he ever caught us in there again, he'd see to it that we regretted it."

"I don't mind saying I already regretted it," Kíli pointed out.

"It's hard to imagine there was ever a softer side to the king," Idunn said.

"There is more to him than commands and orders," Fíli said. Though he may try to hide it away, he thought to himself.

* * *

Idunn walked slowly down the royal corridor, her feet reluctant to carry her to her destination. When she had asked Balin that morning whether the king were busy or not, some small part of her had hoped he would be unavailable the rest of the day. Unfortunately, Balin assured her King Thorin would have time to see her, and that she should seek him out in his study.

She hated her nervousness, but her skills at the forge had never been put to anything like such a test. The swords she had made for soldiers had been of simple make, for brute force only. Those she had made for her cousin and other ladies in the Hills had been more decorative, and although they could be used in battle, she knew none had been. The sword she now carried was something else entirely.

Idunn had crafted Thorin a broadsword of steel, with silver overlay along the recessed fuller. It had a weighted tip for thrusting, and she had centered the blade to allow for ease of slashing. She had punched lettering into the silver centerpiece, _Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain_. As many times as she had sharpened and polished it, the blade would draw blood at the slightest touch. Even so, the sword walked a fine line between utilitarian and decoration, and she feared to err too far on either side.

Standing before the King's study door, Idunn took a deep breath and knocked. His muffled voice sounded from within. "Come."

She opened the door, but did not enter the room until he took note of her. A look of surprise briefly crossed his face, and well it might, for she had never sought him out before nor given advance warning of her arrival.

"Sire," she said, and bobbed a quick curtsy.

King Thorin sat in an armchair close to the hearth with his injured leg propped on a footstool. He dropped his foot to the floor as soon as he saw her, and placed the book he had been reading on a side table. His glance took in everything, not least of all what she carried. "Idunn, come in."

She drew closer to him and held the sword out in both hands. "I have finished your sword."

"So I see." He took it from her and slowly unsheathed the sword from its rather plain-make scabbard. As he glanced over both sides, Idunn's heart hammered hard against her chest and she watched for any sign of disapproval in his eyes. He hefted the sword's weight, edged his thumb beside the razor-sharp blade, and ran his fingers along the Khûzdul inscription. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

The casual insult struck home, and her nervousness instantly faded as indignation bloomed inside her. "I beg your pardon? You asked for proof of my skills and I have given it to you."

"You did not buy this from one of the armorer's stalls?" He seemed unaware of his offense, his attention was so fixed on the blade in his hands.

"Buy it?" she huffed, not even speaking the rest, the idea was so outrageous to her. "I made this with my two hands, and I can always take it back again." She moved closer as though she would do so, but he finally looked up at her, and his piercing blue eyes halted her mid-step.

"No, I want it." His eyes reflected such confusion and wonder, it was as though he had never seen her before. "You truly made this?"

"As I said."

He glanced between her and the sword, as if one of them could not quite be believed. "This is a fine sword, Idunn."

Her cheeks grew hot from a mix of anger and sudden embarrassment. She had never heard him pay such a compliment to anyone, brief though it was. "Thank you," she said as she stepped slightly away from the hearth.

"Erland taught you well."

She was surprised and pleased he had taken the time to find out her father's name. Father had not been mentioned again since the evening of the challenge, although he was ever on her mind as she worked in the forges for Thorin. She had been determined not to disappoint either of them with this sword.

"I will have to put it to some tests in the training room to be sure it is ready for battle." Thorin's face looked grave but his eyes had a light in them that was almost merry, and she did not know how to take his words.

"Do you expect to go to battle soon?"

He watched her another moment as though gauging her, but then returned his attention to the sword. "Perhaps not. You have skill as a smith. If it had been me, I would not have let my father's business be sold off on his passing."

So King Thorin had asked after more than just her father's name. She wondered what else he had found out. "It would have been fortunate, then, that you were born a male, and able to make such decisions for yourself."

Long-ago regrets rose up to prick at her heart. Those early days after her father's death, when all had been taken away from her without her say, had piled misery upon misery. She had not even been left with a refuge, for the forges and her home had been sold off in one go, relegating her to the house of Uncle Destin. It had been a blow to permanently abandon her work, but by the time she realized what had happened she could not take it back.

He looked up at her again, but he did not seem angry at her pert response. He indicated she should sit down, and she did so. "It was out of your hands, then?"

She had to smile at how much he took for granted simply because of who he was. He had control over not only his own life, but those of many others as well. He had no idea what it was to have so little agency as a dwarf-maid with neither father nor husband. "Dáin and his soldiers were tolerant enough when I worked alongside my father, but after he passed on they would not have stood for a female bladesmith."

"They would not have run you out," he said.

"Perhaps not, but I would not have had much business, either."

"You did not make them swords like this." The appreciative tone of his voice worked to soothe her anger at his initial insult. He would know the simple broadswords preferred by soldiers took comparatively little effort.

"Not often."

"Your father was the premier bladesmith in the Iron Hills," he said, "but what of your mother?"

Idunn shook her head. "She died long ago."

Thorin's look of curiosity encouraged her to go on. It wasn't often he seemed to want her to speak at all, and she welcomed the change, however temporary it might be.

"When I was still quite young, a nearby village of Men was struck with a terrible illness so widespread there were few left to tend the sick. Dáin sent what healers we could spare, and any others who were willing to help care for the sick and dying. My mother went." Idunn had not spoken of this in years. The memories tore at her as she drew them out, but her voice remained steady. "A horde of orcs were drawn to the scent of the dead. None in the village were left alive."

"I am sorry." His voice was more gentle than she had ever thought it could be. "Your mother was brave to do such a thing for those not even kin."

She smiled at the compliment, but it was unnecessary. "I know."

"I lost my own mother under less unusual circumstances," he said. "It is never an easy loss."

"The forges are a good place to work out one's grief."

"Indeed." He paused as he watched her with those unreadable eyes. "You have lived with Destin since your father's death. Were you comfortable there?"

"As comfortable as may be when forced to rely on others for home and hearth." Most of Father's gold was at her disposal, but everything else was gone. She might have sought quarters of her own, but a dwarrowdam living alone was rare, and usually associated with tradeswomen. Still, there were times she would have rather risked folks' talk than endure Groa every day.

"Why did you never marry?"

The rudeness of his question made her laugh. "Sire, why did you not?"

He looked momentarily startled, but then seemed to realize his own audacity in asking her the same question.

"My focus was on leading my people in the Blue Mountains." He gestured for her to answer in kind, even though he had nicely skirted the question. Every king's focus is on leading his people.

"Father's success brought the occasional dwarf seeking my hand, but they were more interested in inheriting Father's business than anything to do with me. It was easy enough to dismiss such mercenary suitors." Why she was telling King Thorin of all people, she could hardly say. Astrid had asked her as much, and she'd avoided the question as swiftly as he had just done. She didn't like to lie to him, but even that made little sense as a reason for offering a confidence.

There was a long moment where he seemed to consider her story. Just what he thought of it, he didn't say.

"Well," he said at last, "you have put your time to good use." He put the sword back in its scabbard and laid it across his knees. "I would like to see this one's predecessor some day."

"It is more of a dwarrowdam's sword, and likely to snap when put to the test." She smiled at him as she quoted his earlier derision.

Thorin inclined his head slightly. "You have proven me wrong."

"I'm sure very few dwarves may say the same." In the pause that followed, she realized how much of the king's time she had already taken up without invitation. "Well," she said, unsure how to extricate herself from his study.

Thorin must have understood, for he gestured as though releasing her. When she reached the doorway, he called out to her and she turned back.

"Feel free to use my forges whenever you like," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

Fíli and Astrid made a slow circuit of Erebor's upper balcony walking arm in arm. Below, the main hall was a commotion of dwarves intent on one errand or another, but up here their noise blurred into a pleasant, indecipherable hum. He'd thought sure when they first began such walks that he'd soon grow tired of aimless strolls, but now he found them enjoyable indeed.

"I hope you are able to keep yourself busy these days," he said. "I'm sorry I cannot spend as much time with you as I once did."

Ever since Thorin had thrust Fíli back into his old routine of daily meetings and mediations, his free time with Astrid had grown slim. Combined with his renewed exercises in the training rooms, some days he only saw her at supper.

"I understand," she said. "What do you do with the rest of your day now?"

"Practice with my daggers that I may be as skilled as you," he said with a playful grin.

"I am in earnest," she said as she jostled her elbow against his ribs. He held her arm close against him in retaliation. Her little shows of playfulness were becoming more difficult for him to resist. The truth was, on those days when he only saw her over the dining table, he missed her company more than he was ready to say.

" _In earnest_ ," he said with a teasing emphasis, "there is little entertaining about my mornings."

"You have a great deal of responsibility."

"Thorin would say not enough. He is always reminding us we are not in the Blue Mountains anymore."

"Do you ever miss your old life?" she asked.

He looked down at her and saw no judgment, only simple curiosity in her eyes. Did he miss it? Sometimes he dwelled on thoughts of the Blues, but wasn't that only natural? Those halls had been his childhood home, where he learned to fight, got into scrapes with Kíli, and watched Thorin lead their people with a sort of distant awe. He knew Thorin's Halls and the lands of the Ered Luin better than he did the Lonely Mountain. But would he return if he could?

"I miss the Blues," he said, "and the freedoms I had there. It was a different life, but I wouldn't trade Erebor for it."

He paused before asking, "Do you miss your old life?"

She looked surprised, and he was relieved her question wasn't a reflection of her own regrets. "I miss my family, but it isn't a bad thing to have a little distance from them."

"Sometimes I wouldn't mind having a little distance from Kíli." He looked over his shoulder but his brother and Idunn were out of sight. "If there is anything I can do to make Erebor feel more like your home, you need only name it."

"There is nothing, truly."

"So...you are happy here?" He liked to think she was, but her shyness could be hard to read.

When she looked up at him the sweet smile upon her lips was answer enough. "I am happy here with you."

The sincerity of Astrid's simple confession tugged at Fíli's heart. Her cheeks glowed pink until she must have felt them burn, because she placed one hand to her face. He lightly took her hand and ran the backs of his fingers along the soft skin that blushed so sweetly. "I am glad to hear it," he whispered.

He leaned forward but he saw the changed look in her eyes, the nervous shift in her body as she realized what he was about to do. Although he was confident she didn't fear him, he could wait to kiss her until he was sure she wanted him to. Too much of their situation was already not of her choosing - he wouldn't add a kiss to that list.

He closed the distance between them but angled his face to the side so he could press a gentle kiss to her exposed cheek rather than her mouth. Her soft intake of breath when his lips touched her skin led him to hope she wouldn't shy away the next time.

He pulled back just as Kíli and Idunn rounded the pillar that had provided their needed cover. Kíli realized at once that something was afoot, but Idunn seemed not to notice. Perhaps she was just more tactful than his brother, who couldn't keep his mouth shut for his life.

"Incredible views, aren't they?" Kíli dug an obnoxious elbow into Fíli's ribs as he jostled past him. He leaned against the railing and peered down into the depths below, feigning intense interest in the Main Hall.

"This is quite the spot for watching what goes on in the Mountain," Idunn said as she, too, leaned over the rail. "Nothing would go unseen here."

"Indeed," Kíli said carelessly, "anyone out here should take care for being spied upon."

Astrid's already pink cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as the others' words sank in. He didn't care if anyone else in the Mountain saw them together, but perhaps she did. Few knew of their betrothal yet; if they were seen together so intimately, the conclusions drawn would likely embarrass her worse than Kíli's teasing remarks had done.

"Spying is the mark of an ignorant mind," Fíli said with a significant glance at his brother, "and punishable by a sound beating."

"As I recall, the last time that was attempted the would-be beater was put in his place by the spy." Kíli grinned, unfailingly content with himself. "Or am I wrong?"

"You're almost always wrong."

"Do you two need to visit the sparring rooms?" Idunn asked dryly.

"I'm confident in my superiority," Kíli said. "But perhaps Astrid would like a chance to best my brother. What do you say, Astrid, do you want to put him to shame with your one-on-one skills?"

When Kíli winked at him it was all he could do not to tackle his flippant little brother on the spot. Taunting _him_ about his growing affections was one thing, but teasing _her_ was another.

"I've heard the stories of your journey to Erebor," Astrid said as she held Fíli's arm a little tighter. "I'm not so foolish as to think I could best him."

Kíli made a show of taking Idunn's hand and placing it upon his arm. "Oh," he said, "I think you already have." With that, he led Idunn away.

Astrid's cheeks burned again, but Fíli would have sworn it was out of pleasure and not embarrassment this time. He nearly took her in his arms and kissed her right then, despite having resolved not to just moments ago. It was an impulse that was growing harder for him to fight. He knew he could only keep his feelings for her a secret from the prying eyes of the Mountain for so long.

* * *

What with all the sights and sounds her months in Erebor had shown her, the one thing Idunn lacked was a variety of company. She had not expected her days as Astrid's companion to be so isolated. For all her time spent in the forges, she wouldn't call the workers there her friends, nor had she and Astrid had much opportunity to make new acquaintance. It was a great thrill to her, then, when Fíli and Kíli announced that they would dine with a group of friends from Thorin's Company that evening.

In light of the occasion, the women made ready in their finest dresses, something Fíli couldn't help but notice when he arrived at their door. He looked at Astrid like a miner who has just caught sight of gold. His gaze took on that awestruck look more often lately, which pleased Idunn for Astrid's sake, but also distressed her, as his increasing interest would no doubt complicate her role as chaperone. An indifferent suitor was one thing, but an ardent one would be quite another.

"You look beautiful, Astrid." Fíli didn't take his eyes off her, as though incapable of looking on anything else. "I should say something about the need to have guests at supper more often, but I'm not sure I want to share you."

"You said they are honored friends." Astrid pretended to overlook his flattery, although the little smile at her mouth said she was pleased with his attentions.

"Mmm," he murmured, "honored, yes. Honorable...well, Nori is somewhat reformed, I suppose."

Kíli held out his arm to Idunn. "They're almost as refined as we are."

"Almost?" she said. "We're in for quite the evening, then."

Fíli and Kíli led them down strange corridors of the royal halls they didn't often visit until finally they arrived at a set of doors flanked by guards. They were ushered into a sumptuous room where a great dining table was laid out before a hearth big enough to roast a bear in, and plush seating drawn around the fire. A dozen or more dwarves unknown to Idunn hovered about in conversation, but all went quiet when the four walked into the room.

King Thorin sat in an armchair near the fireplace but stood when their party arrived. He gave a slight nod to Idunn, and the simple recognition filled her with a warm sense of pride. Ever since she had given him his sword his attitude towards her had undergone a shift, however slight, and he was no longer quite so brusque.

Idunn and Astrid were met with many curious stares as they were presented to the room. Fíli introduced Astrid as his 'dear friend', although by the arch looks that a few of the dwarves exchanged, Idunn guessed some must know the truth of it. At any rate, a beautiful young dwarf-maid on the arm of the Crown Prince invited active minds to draw their own conclusions.

They had already met Balin on several occasions, but the rest were new to them, a succession of dwarves whose names Idunn had heard spoken of around the Mountain, and whose faces she wasn't likely to forget. It seemed odd that of Thorin's Company only he, his nephews, and the rather ferocious-looking Dwalin truly looked like the sort to embark on a quest of any kind, let alone one to retake the Mountain. The rest were a strange collection of dwarves she could more easily imagine running market stalls than fighting orcs or rousing dragons. That just thirteen had succeeded at all now seemed even more amazing than when she had first heard the story of their triumph whispered about in the Iron Hills.

The group was allowed to mingle only a short while before they were drawn to the table for dinner. They made a large party, and several conversations went on at once with such enthusiasm that Idunn could hardly even follow that which was closest at hand. Talking over each other as old friends do and gesturing wildly, everyone seemed ready to argue on any given topic. She caught snippets of talk, but didn't really pay attention until the Iron Hills were mentioned.

"I'm glad the trade talks are finally settled," Glóin said between great bites of potato. "We can move on with real business again."

Idunn's eyes shot to Astrid's at the other end of the table. Astrid looked as surprised at the news as Idunn felt. Since being scolded by King Thorin for asking about the trade negotiation's progress, she hadn't brought the subject up again. She turned to him now, but he took no notice of her.

"Though the arrangement is a bit too generous for my taste," Glóin went on, "they debated it long enough our side can have nothing to complain about."

"What _wouldn't_ be too generous for your taste?" Nori asked.

"I would have been content to let them fall," Dori said with a slight sniffle.

"They didn't come to our aid until after the Quest," Glóin said. "Should we come to theirs now?"

"It would have served them right to get nothing," Dori muttered. "Leave them on their own and see how they like it."

Idunn's face grew hot and she clenched her fists beneath the table. She had never heard someone speak so derisively of her home and people before. Erebor and the Iron Hills were kindred lands, not enemies to be vanquished. Was this the prevailing opinion towards the Hills? Anger and wounded pride prevented her from quickly forming a coherent argument against such talk.

"Our guests are from the Iron Hills." King Thorin's low voice silenced the resentful chatter. Dori glanced between Idunn and Astrid with a shade of repentance, but Glóin seemed to have no shame for his sentiment.

"And it's true," Thorin went on, "the Iron Hills did not come to our aid when we first set out on our journey, but we could not have kept the Mountain without them. I would not have it said that Erebor does not stand by our allies. Their halls are as important to them as ours are to us."

For a moment the table was quiet. King Thorin let his gaze drift around the table, resting on Idunn for the barest moment before moving on again. It seemed a direct acknowledgement of her voiced desires to preserve the Hills, but she knew the secured deal could have nothing to do with such a meaningless plea. She wondered about the _generous_ _terms_ , but considering Glóin's derision for the Hills, any concession at all might have been branded such.

"I expect you are finding ways to keep yourself entertained around the Mountain Miss Astrid?" Balin asked as one making an effort to fill up an awkward silence.

Astrid glanced about the table, painfully aware that all conversation had ceased but their own. "I am. I spend a great deal of time reading in the library, and when I am not, I draw."

"That's right," Kíli said with a snap of his fingers, "I forgot that you draw. Ori, here, draws as well." He gestured to another, who gave a faint smile.

"What are you working on, Miss Astrid?" Ori asked.

"Oh," she said quickly, "just portraits, mostly." Idunn gave her a wry look. She knew what secret project consumed Astrid's time but would not dare spoil the surprise. "What do you draw?"

Ori opened his mouth to answer but hadn't gotten a single word out before his brother, Dori, spoke. "Ori is compiling the story of our journey here, at the request of King Thorin. It will be a written chronicle, complete with illustrations, to be bound into a book for the library. It's _historical_." Dori's chest puffed out as though boasting of his own accomplishments.

For his part, Ori twisted his mouth into an odd little smile and nodded along to his brother's recitation.

"That sounds like an important commission," Astrid said. "I must confess, Fíli has told me enough of the dangers you faced on your travels that I'm not sure I would like to see the illustrations."

"They're not grotesque," Nori said. "At least not in any way that isn't true."

"That's so," Dori said. "How is he to draw orcs, or wargs, or mountain trolls without showing them as they really are?"

"Trolls?" Idunn cast a curious glance at King Thorin. "I have not yet heard the story of the trolls." He seemed to brush off her curiosity, as though such incidents were nothing to him.

"I'd be happy to tell you of it," Kíli said. "I was, dare I say, quite heroic." The chorus of contradictions this claim provoked must have dented his pride, and he scowled at their jeering.

Lady Dís's laughter cut through the noise. "If you get this lot recounting their tales of valor it will end in bloodshed."

Despite Dís's warning, the group finished their meal and found places around the hearth, where Kíli regaled them with a story of their encounter with mountain trolls. Everyone seemed to have played a part in the battle, and so each dwarf butted in with a particular memory, which more often than not turned into a jab against one of the others. As far as she could understand, each one failed in some spectacular way, only to be rescued by another. It sounded as though their hobbit friend was the true hero of the day, even if he had used questionable distraction techniques.

"He suggested the trolls skin you?" Astrid asked with wide eyes.

"They wouldn't have done," Fíli reassured her with a gentle touch of his hand.

"No," Dwalin agreed, "they were more than willing to eat Bombur whole."

"Lucky for us mountain trolls are slow and stupid, eh Kíli?"

"The plan worked," Kíli said.

"I don't recall you having a plan," Thorin said. Kíli shrugged and gave a smile as though undeterred from his own version of events.

"In the end," Balin said, "Bilbo's cleverness held them off until Gandalf - and the sunrise - could arrive."

"It was lucky you had such a friend in such a desperate hour," Idunn said. King Thorin looked stricken, but then his features softened again and he gave a slight nod. The room was suddenly silent. "Forgive me," she said in a soft voice, "did the hobbit not survive the Great Battle?"

Everyone turned to the king as though afraid to answer. "Bilbo survived," Thorin said finally, "although for a moment it seemed he would not."

He looked grim, as though reliving memories that pained him, and his gaze remained fixed on the fire. The others glanced about, unwilling to elaborate. Whatever had happened, everyone seemed to regret it had been mentioned. There was an undercurrent of guilt in the room, and Idunn could only guess they felt responsible for having brought someone so unsuited to battle into the heart of one. She had never seen a halfling, but she knew they were smaller than dwarves, and less hardy. Given the room's somber atmosphere, something terrible must have befallen him, even if he did survive it.

"Bilbo returned to his home in the West, in the Shire," Balin said with a veneer of false cheer. "We all know how much he missed his home." Murmurs of laughter moved around the room, and the mood seemed to lighten.

"He could hardly be induced to leave it," Dwalin said with more fondness than Idunn would have expected from such a dwarf.

"'I forgot my handkerchief'," Glóin said with a shake of his head.

"A song, Bofur." King Thorin's command was quiet, but his tone could not be mistaken. For his part, Bofur obliged without comment, and pulled a clarinet from his pocket. From the atmosphere around their little group, Idunn half-expected a mournful dirge, but he came out with a jig that seemed to ease sad memories from their minds.

Every member of the group had some musical talent, and each was happy enough to play in their turn. Flutes and fiddles were retrieved from hidden places, and the rest of the evening was spent in glorious song. Although the gathering was not so fine nor extravagant as Lord Dáin's evenings at court, Idunn found it much more enjoyable.

Between songs, Fíli turned to Astrid. "Do you play at all?"

"I play the flute, but I have never been very dedicated to it," she said, as though fearing he would ask her to take over for Dori or Ori.

"No," he said with a small smirk, "your time is taken up with drawing. And when am I to see your work?"

"It is not quite ready to be seen."

Idunn tried to conceal a smile, imagining how he would react when he finally saw what Astrid had been working on.

"Do you play an instrument, Idunn?" King Thorin's voice startled her from her musing, and several sets of eyes turned to look her way.

"I'm afraid I do not," she said. "So much of my youth was taken up in the forges with my father, I had little chance to learn an instrument."

"I found time for both." The lilt to Thorin's voice almost made her think he was teasing her, but that could not be. He was not a teasing sort of dwarf, was he?

"You play an instrument, sire?"

"I play the harp." The room suddenly rang with a chorus of confirmation and exclamations of his great musical skill. After the group's boasts about their feats with the trolls, their credibility wasn't the strongest. Even so, she seriously doubted he would have mentioned playing an instrument were he not proficient. King Thorin's boasts weren't idle.

"Then I concede you to have made the better use of your time," she said with a little nod.

"No one seeing the work of your hands would think your time in the forges was misspent."

His gentle words sent an unsettling thrill through her in their wake. She smiled slightly, offering the smallest of thanks, before turning her attention back to the center of the room, where Bofur, Dori, and Ori now stood ready to take up a new tune.

Idunn could withstand King Thorin's gruff rudeness, for it bothered her very little, but a _kind_ King Thorin...she found _that_ bothered her very much.

* * *

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 **As always, a huge thank you to everyone reading along and reviewing. I appreciate it!**


	10. Chapter 10

Idunn wandered the stacks in Erebor's library trying to pay as little attention to Fíli and Astrid as she could without actually abandoning them to their own interests. Kíli had begged off library duty and left their party as soon as it was decided they would spend the afternoon there. She couldn't quite blame him, as surely he had more interesting things to do than watch his brother fall in love with Astrid.

And she did suspect Fíli of falling in love. His rapt attention, his fond looks at Astrid, the way he touched her like she was made of the softest velvet - this seemed like more than mere attraction to Idunn's eyes. Not that she had much experience with either attraction or love, she reminded herself. Perhaps she wasn't the best judge of the depth of a male's interest, but she thought his significant.

She had just settled into an armchair when King Thorin walked into the library. The surprise of seeing him quickly shifted into pleasure that she would not be without a companion after all. That she was pleased to be in his company didn't bear long scrutiny.

She didn't look at him as he made his halting way across the room. She had noticed he had a way of glaring like a wounded animal if she dared make eye contact while he walked, as though resentful of his injury being on display. Secretly she thought it a mark of honor, like iron forged through fire to create the strongest steel, but it seemed he did not.

He picked up a book off a table before sinking into the chair across from her. His gaze had caught Fíli and Astrid, sitting together on a settee in a far corner, but he didn't linger. When he looked at Idunn she felt that tiny something, like a flutter of wings in her chest, that had so unnerved her at the dinner party a week past. She tried to tamp it back down again, and fixed her attention firmly on her book.

"Where is Kíli?" Thorin asked.

She had long grown used to the King's abrupt manners, but that didn't mean she had to like them. "Good afternoon to you, too, sire."

A grim sort of smile crossed his features. "Good afternoon, Idunn. I trust you are well?"

"Quite well, thank you," she said with the air of a governess coaching a pupil. Point made, her stiffness melted away. "Kíli decided he would rather spend the afternoon in the training rooms than the library."

Thorin's brow twitched. "He shouldn't have left you alone."

Her own gaze darted to the couple in the corner and back again. "I think they're doing fine."

"I'm sure they are. I mean it's impolite to leave you by yourself in this way."

That a dwarf who barked out challenges and issued commands without thinking should worry about what is polite almost made her laugh out loud. "I was not offended."

Unconvinced, he glanced her over as though he might discover evidence of the lie. Given the choice between believing someone's words and their actions, he seemed only to trust his own eyes.

"I enjoy solitude," she said by way of explanation. She turned back to her book rather than face his piercing gaze. The idea of him examining her too closely was unsettling, for fear of what he might see.

He shifted as though uncomfortable. "Perhaps I am intruding, then."

"That wasn't what I meant." She raised a hand to stop him, as he seemed on the verge of standing to leave. "Of course you should stay. I only meant that I am not afraid of my own company."

He settled back into his chair, and his eyes lit with a strange mix of emotions. "It is not everyone who can say that."

"If I cannot tolerate myself, who could?"

"A good question," he said in the same odd tone.

She couldn't interpret the remark at all, but she knew she wanted his attention diverted elsewhere, anywhere but on her. "At any rate, my charges are not difficult."

Thorin glanced at the couple in the corner again, as she had hoped he would, but her reprieve was brief. "I should think not. My nephew is not incorrigible, yet he is still a male. He may have good intentions, but I cannot always trust him to have good actions. I am not that naive."

This frank confirmation of her growing concerns as chaperone was not the diversion Idunn had intended. She was trying to come up with a fresh distraction when Thorin continued on. "Kíli, too, requires a watchful eye."

She had to laugh at that. "I do not envy whoever is asked to chaperone _his_ betrothal period."

Thorin's expression narrowed slightly as he watched her. "I don't expect that to be for many years."

"No, indeed."

"You agree?"

"He is quite...exuberant. I cannot imagine him being ready to marry for some time," Idunn said. Thorin watched her with such a strange look, she thought she must have inadvertently offended him, even though she had wholly agreed with his point. Then it hit her - when and whom Prince Kíli married would likely be at the discretion of the king himself. He didn't need her opinions on the subject. "It is a family matter, of course. I only mean he is quite young."

"Yes," Thorin said in a detached voice. "Yes, he is quite young."

He turned his attention to the book in his hands, so Idunn did the same. She had not read more than half a page before the King spoke up again. "I hope Kíli does not bother you with his _exuberance_."

"On the contrary, as an only child with two female cousins, knowing Kíli has given me a glimpse into what it might have been like to have a younger brother."

The beginning of a smile played along his lips. "And what is your verdict?"

"It would have been tiresome." There was a pause before she broke into laughter, which was quickly followed by the pleasant surprise of hearing Thorin's laugh. It was low and deep, rumbling from his chest like thunder in the distance.

"That is the younger brother's gift, to bring joy and gladness whether you want it or not." When he smiled at her the ridiculous fluttering sensation returned to Idunn's chest. "Many an older brother has been cheered to his breaking point by the younger."

She remembered then that Thorin himself had had a younger brother who had died in battle long ago. Although she would have liked to know more of him, such a question was too much for her to ask. "Fíli seems to tolerate it well," she said, choosing to keep to the topic at hand. "Even though they seem so dissimilar, I cannot imagine them not getting along."

"You did not know them as dwarflings," Thorin said with a rueful sort of smile. "I suppose I must be glad you find Fíli so different from Kíli."

"Fíli's far more serious than his brother."

Thorin nodded but his smile faded away. "The two were very much alike in their youth, but there is much responsibility in being the heir to the throne. It's a heavy burden to bear."

"He wears it well. I think he's a very fine dwarf."

"Do you approve then of your cousin's match?" He watched her again like he had before, as though ready to judge what he saw in her face more than what he heard in her words.

"I do. They're well suited to making each other happy, and their marriage will benefit all our lands." She paused a moment, calculating her next words. "I was glad to hear that the trade arrangements with the Iron Hills were completed."

"Yes, well, they had dragged on long enough. It's time to move forward." There was a long silence in which Thorin simply watched her. "I have no intention of letting the Iron Hills fall."

She couldn't help but break into a smile at such a reassurance from the King. The fluttering feeling that had settled inside her would just have to be ignored.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Uncle?"

Thorin turned from his desk to see Kíli standing in the study doorway looking pink-cheeked and chipper. Although the toll of the Great Battle had left its scars and brought some measure of maturity to his nephew, glimpses like this reminded him just how young he still was, in heart if not necessarily in years.

"Sit down."

Kíli closed the door behind him and did as he was told. That spark of playfulness Thorin had briefly seen was utterly extinguished now. He sat with his fists balled on his thighs, all casualness gone. Perhaps he was too demanding with the boys after all, if Kíli should react to any unexpected summons with such apparent dread.

"Where were you this afternoon?" Thorin asked as though out of friendly curiosity.

The light in Kíli's eyes flickered. "This afternoon?"

Inwardly, Thorin sighed. Kíli was transparent. "I did not see you with the others in the library."

"I was in the training rooms. I don't want to let my skills grow rusty."

"Did you get in a good practice?"

Again that flickering in his eyes, as though searching for some way out of the conversation. He bounced one knee in agitation. Kíli was a terrible liar.

"Pretty good," he said. "Mostly target practice."

"I sent a page to find you. He said you weren't there."

The bouncing knee stilled, and Kíli's expression made plain he was struggling for an excuse. He would need to rid himself of all these signs if he were to ever become any sort of negotiator.

"I wasn't there the whole time."

"The captain of the rounds said he hadn't seen you since yesterday," Thorin said. Kíli looked back at him blankly and made no move to explain himself. "It's bad enough that you abandoned Idunn for the afternoon, but now you are hiding your actions. What is the reason for this?"

Kíli fidgeted in his seat again. "It's nothing."

"And yet you lie to me."

"I know you wouldn't like it."

"Obviously."

Kíli sighed. "I was with a girl, if you must know."

Thorin could only stare. He shouldn't have expected anything less from Kíli, but as far as he knew, the girl Kíli was spending time with was the very one he had left behind in the library. That she claimed to think of him as a younger brother had not yet fully divided them in Thorin's mind.

"Since when is there a girl?" he asked slowly.

"It's nothing serious."

"It's certainly something serious to the girl," Thorin said. "What about Idunn?"

Kíli shrugged. "I know I shouldn't leave her all alone with them, but Fíli's not about to ravage Astrid in the library, is he?"

"Do you take nothing seriously?" Thorin hissed. Kíli looked subdued for the moment, and Thorin was reminded of him as a dwarfling scolded for some long-forgotten transgression. He should be past such immaturity by now. That they had had this discussion several times already was testament that despite his age, Kíli was not yet acting like a dwarf grown.

"Whether this girl is seeking a claim on you or is simply too ignorant to realize she has none, you need to end it."

Kíli scowled but remained quiet.

"Do you think I've arranged Fíli's marriage to Astrid because I have nothing better to do with my time? I'll not have the Line of Durin splinter for the sake of your momentary pleasure."

"It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" If Kíli were to say he suddenly thought himself in love it would not go well for him.

"Do you have any idea how boring it is to watch Fíli woo his bride?" he asked. "It was amusing at first, when they didn't know what to do with each other, but now...now it's a nightmare."

"A nightmare," Thorin repeated.

Kíli groaned. "The sincerity, the tenderness, the sweet whisperings. I fear for him, I truly do, he's so blind to anything but her."

"You think so?"

"Yes, do you not?"

"I was not aware their affections had progressed so far." Attraction and affection were two separate things. In truth, he had been so concerned with whether Kíli and Idunn were falling in love, he'd given little thought to the couple who were actually to be wed. He had assumed they would find each other in their own time.

"Well they have _progressed_ ," Kíli said. "And I'm happy for him, truly I am, but if you say I must watch their every move from now until their wedding day, I will stab myself on the spot just to find relief from them in the infirmary."

Thorin felt suddenly lighter and had to laugh at Kíli's vehemence. "I'd hate for you to resort to that. I give you leave to abstain from accompanying some of their interactions. Some," he repeated, raising a finger in emphasis, "not all. Their betrothal has not yet been announced."

"They will come to you sooner than later." Kíli made to leave the study but Thorin stopped him.

"Stay a moment. I am serious about breaking off with this girl."

Kíli glanced away. "I know."

"We cannot risk - "

"Breaking the Line, I know." Kíli's bitterness had returned and the look he gave Thorin was all resentment. "Do you think I am likely to forget?"

"Sometimes you are liable to forget a great deal. You have already forgotten Idunn."

"What do you mean?" Kíli asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

That there was already a new flirtation gave Thorin a measure of peace, but Kíli was not known for his constancy. He would not be more specific than he had to be, but he must know Kíli's feelings once and for all.

"What do you think of her?" Thorin asked slowly.

"I think she's a pleasant companion," Kíli said as though trying to work out his opinion on the spot. "I had feared Astrid would turn up with a tottering old aunt, or worse, her mother, but as it is I've been quite content. Why?"

"No reason," Thorin said as he waved his nephew off. Kíli glanced at him a moment before he disappeared out the door.

No reason at all.

* * *

"It's finally happened." Astrid burst through the door that separated her chambers from Idunn's to find her cousin curled up in an armchair poring over a book.

"What's happened?" Idunn asked with a wide grin.

"Nothing about _that_ ," Astrid said with a wave of her hand. She had confided how Fíli had nearly kissed her, and how desperately she hoped he would try again. But no, so far he had been on his best behavior, and she could not think how to let him know he did not always have to be. "I just received this letter."

Astrid shook the parchment covered in Mother's script.

"I see," Idunn said as she set her book aside. "Am I to congratulate you?"

"'Your sister Heidrun has been safely delivered of a son, Brunin'," Astrid read. "'Mother and son are well and resting'. She goes on about his darling little beard and his full head of hair for a page, do you want to read it?"

She passed the letter to Idunn, who skimmed over Mother's writing, her facial expression altering with every line. "'Strongest boy born in a generation' she says. The sentiment's not shocking, I suppose."

"He's spoiled already, I'm sure, but what else is Mother to do?" Astrid could imagine how her sister's demands would have increased now that she had delivered the baby, and she did not regret being safely tucked away in Erebor.

"She ends by inviting the Lady Dís to visit and pay her compliments in person?" Idunn said. "That's bold."

That line had given Astrid a momentary fit of worry. She may be betrothed to the Crown Prince, but she wasn't entirely sure that gave Mother leave to address Lady Dís in such a familiar way. Nor, the more she thought of it, could she be sure Mother hadn't also written to Dís herself, to extend such generous invitations directly. Astrid would hint in her return letter that such a request wasn't yet prudent, and hope for the best. Mother didn't always take to hints.

"Heidrun and Mother both will be acting as though he's the first dwarfling ever to be born."

"Is he not? Your mother states right here that it was the best, fastest, and _cleanest_ delivery Heidrun's midwife had ever seen."

"She means well, but her boasting grates so."

"I can only guess what your father and Bruni think of all of this. She makes no mention of them."

"She has probably given them no thought at all since Brunin was born." Astrid covered her face with her hands. "I'm a terrible daughter to say so."

"Astrid, there's no harm in seeing the faults of those around you and learning a lesson from them. Perhaps that's why your parents chose me as your companion - the better for you to learn from my failures." Idunn gave a wry smile but Astrid wasn't to be dissuaded from her convictions so easily.

"Don't joke, I am in earnest. I fear for the wedding, when Lady Dís and King Thorin will finally meet Mother." She could just imagine the sorts of injudicious comments Mother might say. From all she knew of Dís and Thorin, none of them would go over well.

"By then the whole family will love you so much, they will take no notice of your mother's...oddities."

"That's my hope." _Mahal willing._

"So," Idunn said with a small smile, "you have decided there _will_ be a wedding?"

She trembled at the thought, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. The idea of being Fíli's wife was hope and anticipation and happiness all mixed together. "Yes," she admitted softly. "For my part, yes."

"For your part?" Idunn repeated. "Do you have any reason to think Fíli feels differently?"

She thought of the way he held her hand as they walked, how so much seemed to be said in every small gesture. She thought of how patiently he read with her in the library, even after admitting reading wasn't one of his preferred pursuits. They seemed to understand one another, even without words.

"No," she said, "I am sure he feels the same."

That didn't stop her from wanting to hear the words.

* * *

"Steady him." Dwalin had one arm held fast under Fíli's shoulder as he helped him through Erebor's gates. Kíli clumsily tried to prop up Fíli's injured side, but the pain of that movement was too great. Fíli's shout echoed down the Main Hall, and Kíli drew his hands away.

"About the waist, lad," Dwalin said as he tried to wrangle Fíli into a new position.

As soon as he realized what they were doing, Fíli pushed at them, refusing their help. "I'll not be carried in like a baby."

"I'd rather you kept your feet, too, but your hollering is sure to bring an audience." Dwalin looked him in the eye, and Fíli saw a thread of worry running through his Captain's stoic facade. "Can you make it to the healing rooms on your own?"

Fíli nodded, and Dwalin released him, although he watched his every move. Cradling his injured side, Fíli turned towards the healing rooms. Closing his mind off to the pain, he followed the others and focused only on each footstep in turn. It had been rougher going outside as they made the long trek from Erebor's eastern foothills to the main gate in the dark. Now at least his footing was sure, but his head grew fuzzy from pain in his chest and the glancing blow that even now bled into his eyes.

After more painful steps than he cared to count they finally reached the infirmary. Dwalin led him to a cot and helped him sit down. Several of the other warriors from the skirmish lingered near the doorway, keeping watch. From some unknown corner came Óin, the old healer, who trotted up to examine him.

"Fíli?" he said, his voice thick with surprise and concern. "What's this?"

"Night raid on orcs," Dwalin said. "One surprised him with a blow to the chest and a second took advantage with one to the head."

It was a polite way of saying he had been bested by mindless orc filth. If it hadn't been for his old shoulder injury he might have avoided both strikes, but as it was, one slow reaction had cost him. That he could take such hits in such a small skirmish was shameful.

"So I see." Óin pressed wet rags to Fíli's scalp, and the numbness there suddenly burst into flame. Kíli looked on, ashen and quiet, as the healer worked to clean the wound. Fíli was not so bad off that his brother should keep a vigil, but he couldn't bear to send him away, either.

"It's a nasty cut," Óin said as he inspected it. "I'll need to stitch it."

"It can't be hidden," Kíli said with a groan. "How will we explain it to Thorin?"

"We'll tell him the truth," Fíli said. "It was only a matter of time until he found out. I can't go on sneaking around behind his back."

"He'll have us working in the mines."

"He should thank you for proving the Line of Durin is still a force to be reckoned with," Dwalin said with a deadly grin. "For all your injuries, you still killed the filth."

He didn't even know how he had done it. That instant where he'd known he was about to be struck but couldn't avoid it had seemed to stretch on in its torment. Then the blow to his ribs had fallen and before he'd recovered, his head had lit up with pain from a second strike. He'd flown into a rage like he'd never known before, dispatching the two orcs without thinking. The rest of the skirmish had spun around him in a confusion of howls and shouts until it was all over.

"I can give you something for the pain," Óin said, "but then I'd need to keep you here with me overnight."

"I can bear it," Fíli said. He had been a long-term resident in the healing rooms once before and had no wish to repeat his stay. Besides, what sort of fighter needed a tonic just to receive stitches?

Óin gave him a bracing look before he set to stitching his head wound. Fíli gritted his teeth as Óin worked the needle along the cut, each prick and pull a white-hot point of pain. He tried to distract himself, but no thought could crowd in through the burning pain. Luckily Óin was a fast worker, and the ordeal was soon over.

"What else?" Óin asked as he dabbed a salve along the stitches.

"His ribs," Dwalin said with a nod to Fíli's side. "Broken, I'd think."

Kíli and Óin helped him out of his layers of clothing until he sat on the cot in just his trousers. Beneath his bad shoulder his side and chest were a purple bruise where the orc cudgel had struck home. His mail had kept it from breaking the skin, but it had done enough damage even without. Óin's fingers gently touched and prodded, and he put his ear trumpet to Fíli's chest to listen to him breathe. When he finally pulled away, his face was grim.

"Three broken, but I don't believe anything's damaged on the inside. You'll need to be bound, and go easy on the arm for at least a month."

"I already go easy on that arm."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem, should it?" Dwalin said with a wink. His confidence was a boon, and Fíli gave a return smile. The pain was only temporary. He could endure it.

"There," Óin said once Fíli's chest was bound, "how do you feel?"

"Like a brazier."

Even if he hadn't needed stitches from his eyebrow to his ear, he still wouldn't have been able to keep his injuries secret from Thorin. The broken ribs were like fire in his chest, nonstop pain that made even breathing feel like too much to endure. The binding had brought a measure of comfort, but not enough to bring him anything close to normal.

He slipped on his tunic with slow and careful movements, and Dwalin took up his mail and leather coats. When at last he stood, wincing from the effort, the warriors waiting in the infirmary doorway burst into applause. Their shouts of praise cheered Fíli enough to make him forget his pain for a moment, until Óin shushed them all from the healing rooms.

"You'll wake the whole Mountain," Dwalin said with a spark of joy in his eyes. He sent his soldiers off to their own beds before walking with Fíli and Kíli to the royal corridors.

"Who is more likely to kill us?" Kíli asked. "Mother, or Thorin?"

"Mother will be proud," Fíli said between aching breaths. "Thorin..." He exchanged a look with Dwalin, who arched an eyebrow.

Confessing their night raids to Thorin just might turn out to be more painful than Fíli's broken ribs.

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone for reading, following, and reviewing!**


	11. Chapter 11

"I expressly forbade you from going on those raids," Thorin hissed. "You defied me and this is the result."

Fíli and Kíli stood before him in his study, guilt etched in their faces along with a glimmer of something else. Pride, he thought it, pride for their reckless actions. Kíli seemed whole, but Fíli's head bore a fresh injury where purple bruises bloomed along one temple. A black line of stitches stood out in the center of the wound, evidence of Óin's clean work. He favored his right side, too, and likely had broken ribs, if Thorin had to guess. He might have been relieved his nephews were in one piece if he weren't so furious with them for their carelessness.

"Does my word mean nothing to you?" he asked.

"I told you I wanted to be a part of the fight," Fíli said.

"And I told you no. We have soldiers enough without you joining in."

"We cannot sit by while others fight our battles," Kíli said. "You know this."

Kíli's disappointment and rage when Thorin refused to leave the Mountain those years ago flashed through his mind. The two situations could not have been more different, despite what his nephews seemed to think. "Picking off straggler orcs running across our lands is nothing like the Great Battle for the Mountain. You risk your lives for the sake of pride, and nothing more."

"We do it for our people," Fíli said.

"You do it for yourselves," Thorin spat back.

There was a pause as Fíli glared at him, defiance etched around his mouth and eyes. "Yes, I do. I need to fight, to prove to myself I'm still the same dwarf I was before."

"You could have died!"

"Better to die fighting for those I love than cowering in Erebor's halls!" Fíli's voice rent the air, all pretense at composure gone now. "I have given up too much of myself already, I could not bear to lose my self respect, too."

For a moment it was as though a shared memory passed between them. Fíli never spoke of it, but in rare moments like this, Thorin knew he still thought of it. The Gold Sickness might be thrown off, but Fíli's memories of Thorin's lowest point could not be undone. Did he not know that well enough from his own memories of Thrór? Always they were admiration mixed with shame. Thinking too long on that would defeat his own purpose, so he pushed it aside to focus on the rest of Fíli's remark.

"Tell me, Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor, what have you given up?"

"Choice," he said without hesitation. "My days are scheduled by you, my comings and goings dictated by you. I have barely left the halls since we took the Mountain, and then only on your errands. Even when and whom I would marry was decided by you."

"If you are unhappy with my choice of bride I can always undo the betrothal."

Fíli froze, and Thorin knew he had him.

"I will write to Dáin at once," he said, "and we will send her on her way. You will be free of her."

Fíli moved closer, and though he winced with each step, the fire in his eyes bore a threat all their own. "You would take her away from me just to prove that you can?"

"If you need such reminders."

"Try."

"Enough!" Kíli stepped between them as though they were about to leap at each other's throats. He placed one hand on Fíli's good shoulder to hold him back, and pointed an accusatory finger at Thorin with the other. "Do you hear yourselves? Fíli, no one is sending Astrid away. Thorin, we will go out to fight the orcs as we see fit."

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll not cower for your sake," Fíli said in a low voice.

"It is not for my sake," Thorin said, his anger still blazing in his chest, "it is for our people. The Line of Durin must be secure."

"The Line of Durin?" Kíli repeated in a low whisper as though the words were disgusting to him. "Growing up, I always thought the Line of Durin some mysterious thing, but now I know it's just us. You, me, Fíli."

Kíli still stood with his hand on his brother's shoulder, the two squared off against him ready for a fight. The memory came again of that day when they had banded together against him, when they had wanted to fight and he would not. He released a ragged exhale. How had it come to this?

"Does the Line of Durin mean anything if we won't fight alongside our people?" Kíli asked. "If we won't even show our face in our own halls? That's not a legacy I'm willing to leave."

Thorin stared at his nephew, but the fight had drained out of him.

"Come, Fíli." Kíli led his brother away, and although both looked over their shoulders at Thorin, he did nothing to stop their going.

* * *

"Thorin."

He closed his eyes a moment. He could send her away, but would she go if he wished it? And did he even wish it? Without altering his position by the fire in his study, he gestured for her to come in.

Dís took the armchair next to him and clasped her hands in her lap. Although he didn't meet her gaze, he could feel its weight upon him like so much iron.

"I understand you and the boys have had words," she said.

"How much did they tell you?"

"Enough."

There was a long silence as Dís waited for him to speak. It was an old tactic they had learned from their father, how to use silence to goad others to speak. Guilty people always spoke first.

"They defied me," he finally said. It was the one thing he could cling to, as all else he had said in those heated words had been folly.

"They did, and Fíli will bear the scars for it."

"They have no business going on orc raids."

"Perhaps not," Dís said. "Perhaps they should stay safe in the Mountain, secure behind our gates."

Thorin glanced at her, but she gave nothing of her thoughts away. "Fíli could well have died last night."

"Too true. And then where would the Line of Durin be?"

"Don't you start, too." He was tired of her pleasant tone that could not mask her unpleasant meaning, as though he cared more for the idea of the Line than for his actual nephews. "You know it is for their sake that I protect them."

"They're too old to be coddled, Thorin. How many times have you said those very words to me?"

"This isn't coddling, this is protecting the throne."

"At what cost? Their pride in themselves as warriors and the respect of our people are a high price for such protection."

"Frerin was a proud warrior," he said. Dís sucked in a breath at the sound of their brother's name that was never spoken for the grief it wrought. "Finnur was a proud warrior. You think of them and tell me what is too high a price to pay for protection."

"You may try to speak for Frerin, but you'll not speak for my husband." Dís's words were sharp in her sudden anger, and he regretted his thoughtless remark. "Finnur was a fighter through and through. Yes, I feared for him every time he went out to battle orcs, and yes, I mourn for him now he's gone. But don't think for a moment he would have sat idly in your halls, satisfied with _protection_ , when there were battles to be fought. He would have defied you as sure as his sons did. It would have killed him to do anything less."

"Dís - "

"I'm not finished. I've stood by while you build these walls around yourself, and I have some notion why you do. But a king who does not fight for his people is a king his people will not fight for. A king who cannot be seen is a king who cannot be loved."

"I do not need to be loved."

"Then you have no right to be king."

He flinched as her words struck home. She was right, of course, and he was a liar. A king who could not love his people and be loved by them in return was no kind of king at all. He had locked himself away out of shame, and what had it brought? A people who had no faith in him. As one who had just idly threatened his beloved nephews out of fear and spite, he deserved no faith.

He sagged in his chair, deflated from so much fighting among his closest kin. He had been there once before, standing alone against those who knew and loved him best. He would not do so again.

"You weren't there that day," he said. "You didn't see them as I did." He hadn't yet escaped the vision of Fíli and Kíli, broken and bleeding on the battlefield, all for his own selfishness. That they lived had hardly erased the pain of such a sight. "They would have died for my sake."

Dís put her hand lightly on his. "As you would have done for Father and Grandfather. Fíli and Kíli are no different in their fierce devotion to you."

Those words seemed to seep through him, replacing his anger with a renewed pride in his nephews. He would have gladly died fighting for Thráin and Thrór, and counted it an honor. Would he not do the same for Fíli and Kíli? Why should they have felt anything less for him? Even so, he could not have borne it if they'd died because his mind had been lost to sickness.

"Do not go this way, Thorin," Dís whispered. "Father never recovered from Frerin's loss. Do not punish yourself when those you love still live."

He nodded, but he wasn't yet sure he could ever forget what he'd done. That day four years ago he'd thought only to protect Erebor's treasures; now he sought only to protect his nephews' lives. His intent may have altered but the outcome was the same.

"Are they angry with me?"

"Kíli is the one you should worry about. He is likely to stew, but Fíli will have Astrid's attentions to distract him from his anger. She is probably soothing him even now."

"Yes, it seems Fíli has fallen in love with his bride to be."

"And yet you would threaten to separate them," she said drily.

"I was trying to point out that though she might not have been his choice at the beginning, she certainly is his choice now."

The withering glare Dís shot him made him repent his stunt. "Never get between a dwarf and the woman he loves." She stood and made to leave. "Are you going to speak with them?"

"In my own time."

She clapped him roughly on the shoulder as she passed. "That's a _no_ if ever I heard one."

* * *

"Are you sure you're quite all right?"

Astrid's heart had sunk into her toes when she first saw Fíli that morning with a fresh wound to his head. A purple bruise seeped from his right eyebrow to beneath the hair at his temple, with a newly stitched cut at the center. At first the sight of the stitched flesh turned her stomach but already her queasiness was wearing away, leaving only unfettered worry in its wake.

She and Idunn had set out for the market that morning to seek a woodworker's stall, but all plans had been abandoned when they'd come across Fíli and Kíli in the corridors. Kíli had directed them to one of Lady Dís's empty sitting rooms, where Astrid placed herself next to Fíli on the settee and could not seem to stop asking him if he were truly well and fine.

"His head's as hard as stone," Kíli said from behind them where he inspected his mother's food tray. "The blow to the head didn't even rattle him. His ribs, on the other hand, shattered like glass."

"They didn't shatter," Fíli said, although Astrid noted he moved as little as possible and kept his right arm tight against his side. "I'd like to see you take an orc cudgel to the chest without breaking a rib."

"I think I have."

"An orc cudgel?" Astrid whispered, and it seemed she could not catch her next breath.

"Ah." Fíli glanced from her to Kíli and back again. Guilt shone in his eyes. "You see..." There was a pause and in that silence Astrid's worst fears flooded through her mind.

"Idunn, perhaps we should take a walk." Kíli abandoned his mother's treats and held his arm out to his companion. "I'm sure there's something in the Mountain you haven't seen yet."

"Should we really leave them alone?" Idunn said in a whisper that was still loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I think the fear of our mother walking in on them will keep them contained," Kíli said in an equal whisper. "Well, that and Fíli can't so much as breathe without pain. They'll be fine."

Fíli glared at his brother a moment but said nothing to stop them. Astrid heard the soft click of the door as Idunn and Kíli disappeared into the hallway, but her eyes remained fixed on Fíli.

"You were fighting orcs last night?" She'd held onto some absurd hope that he'd merely been injured from a training practice gone awry, but she should have known better.

When he looked at her again, a reluctance was in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. He either didn't want to tell her the truth, or he thought she couldn't handle it. "Kíli and I have been part of the effort to quell the orcs that are sometimes seen on our borders at twilight. They've not been big bands, a dozen or so, but...yes, I was fighting orcs last night."

"How often do you do this?"

"This was the third raid in as many months."

"I didn't think you fought in such raids," she said, more to herself than him. "I'd heard..."

"What did you hear?" he asked quickly.

She hesitated giving an honest response. None in the Mountain knew of her betrothal to Fíli, and so market gossips had spoken freely in front of her these last months. Although few had anything ill to say of Fíli's character, some of what she'd heard did not reflect well on him as a fighter.

"They say that you, Kíli, and King Thorin do not fight."

Fíli looked sad, but he did not seem surprised at this news.

"Not that you cannot," she said in a rush, thinking of his injured shoulder, "but that you rather...wish not to."

"That was Thorin's wish, not mine nor Kíli's." He paused a moment, watching her as though searching out her reaction. "I decided some months ago I would no longer sit by. I wanted to fight alongside my brothers again. I wanted to protect my people."

The way he said this last made Astrid's stomach tumble all over again. That she might be included in the people Fíli fought for filled her with such a sense of joy she hardly knew what to do with herself. She took up his uninjured hand in hers and held it tight, reveling in the warmth of it as his fingers wrapped around her own.

"Does it bother you that I go out to fight?" he asked in a low whisper.

Was it this that he feared? That she could not or would not accept him fighting orcs? As though she could keep such a dwarf from battle.

"No," she answered. "I would never want you injured, but I am proud of you."

"Proud of me?" he repeated, his eyes glinting with obvious pleasure.

"I am proud of how bravely you fight," she said as she watched their fingers intertwine. "Many dwarves would not do as much. You are a strong warrior with a good heart. Yes, I am proud of you. I am proud to be your betrothed wife."

The last was barely above a whisper, but Fíli must have heard for he squeezed her fingers all the tighter. When she looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes were filled with tenderness and a spark of something more that kindled an answering call inside her own chest. Before she could tell herself all the reasons she shouldn't, she pulled his hand to her mouth and gently pressed her lips against it.

He laid his palm on her cheek and let his thumb run across her skin until his soft touch sent a shiver through her. "I sincerely wish I weren't injured just now."

"What would you do if you weren't?" she whispered, not knowing where such boldness had come from, or where it would lead her.

"I would move closer." Surprise danced in his eyes as she followed his instruction and leaned closer to him on the settee. "I would draw my face to yours until just our breath lay between us."

A thrill shot through her as she closed the distance between them until she could see nothing but his eyes, his nose, his mouth. "And then?" she said, her voice light as a breeze.

"I would kiss you until you forgot all your worries."

Which one of them moved was impossible to say, all she knew was that their mouths had met and suddenly there was nothing else. There was only this moment, this touch, this breath. His whiskers were soft against her skin, the sweet-sharp scent of him everywhere, his mouth gentle as it moved over hers. She had to suppress a giggle when one of his mustache beads lightly knocked against the side of her chin, but then his tentative kisses grew bolder and all thought flew from her mind.

How could she have feared this? For weeks now she'd suspected his growing desire to kiss her but had no notion what she should do when the time came. But _this_ \- this was the most natural thing in the world, and all she knew with any certainty was that she didn't want it to stop.

Fíli shifted in an effort to draw her yet closer and he released a groan of pain against her mouth.

Astrid's eyes flew open. "Are you all right?"

His mouth twisted into a small smile. "I can bear a little more."


	12. Chapter 12

"I really don't think he's as bad off as all that." Kíli stood off to the side in Mother's sitting room, scowling down at Fíli where he rested in a chair by the fire. "Surely his ribs wouldn't be in any danger in these meetings."

"Óin says he needs to heal fully before he returns to his regular duties," Mother said, never taking her eyes off her needlework.

Fíli splayed a hand as though deferring to her judgment. "That was what I heard as well."

"Right," Balin said with a little clap of his hands, "well, Thorin wants one of you to sit in on the morning's meetings, and since Fíli's still recuperating, that only leaves you, laddie." He grinned at Kíli's sour expression.

"Couldn't you do it?" Kíli asked.

"Aye, I could," he mused, "if my name were Fíli or Kíli. As it's not, I have enough to do this day without adding on the princes's tasks."

"Fine." Kíli sighed but straightened up and made to follow Balin. "You're enjoying this," he shot at Fíli as they departed.

Mother laughed when they were gone. "You are enjoying this."

"Not the being injured part," he said. "Just the having Kíli fill in for me part." As the heir, Fíli had borne the greater share of responsibilities Thorin sought to pass down to them, and he didn't mind shunting a few of those off onto his brother for a time. He knew it wouldn't last.

"That's all you're enjoying, is it?" she asked.

He wouldn't tell her the rest, although she obviously guessed. His injury had drawn Astrid closer and encouraged her to throw off her lingering shyness. His inability to do much without pain had allowed her to take charge of their interactions, and the change suited her. It suited him, as well, for every time she leaned closer to him, her eyes dancing with timid new desires, he thought what a lucky dwarf he was indeed.

"I thought as much," Mother said with a smug look over her needlework.

She was interrupted from further gloating when Astrid and Idunn entered the sitting room. Fíli's heart leapt at the sight of his sweet Astrid, who positively glowed. She crossed the room and greeted Mother before taking a place on the settee. The small smile she gave him was invitation enough. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he stood and walked the few steps to sit beside her.

"How are you this morning?" she asked.

"Much improved," he said. "Now."

"Your brother will be glad to hear it," Mother huffed.

"And how do you do this morning, my lady?" Astrid asked.

"There's no need to show concern for me," Mother said with a small laugh. "I'm well enough."

"What is it you're working on, my lady?" Idunn asked her. Mother showed off the intricate embroidery in her lap, and Idunn sat down next to her so the two could discuss the various stitches and techniques illustrated in the piece.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Astrid asked him quietly. "Are you comfortable?"

"Perfectly."

Her lips pressed into the smallest smile, but he knew she wasn't satisfied with such a response. She would have brought him mugs of tea and fluffed the cushions behind his back all day if he'd let her. She was a bit like Mother in her constant care, although much gentler in her ministrations. Astrid's fussing over him was certainly enjoyable, but he didn't like her to think he was more injured than he actually was.

"You might read a while," he said. Her eyes lit up and she immediately went over to the small shelf of Mother's books. She had read to him now and then from a large volume of folklore and poetry. They were the sorts of stories he'd given up long ago, but her affection for them endeared them to him anew.

She returned with the book and arranged it between them so that it rested on both of their laps. Quickly flipping through the pages, she found the place where they'd last left off. The illustration was of a glittering cave studded with gems, the story one of a miner whose desperate search for a gem of rare color and value led him to overlook the other precious stones at his fingertips. Her voice was soft as she read the words of the old tale, and she seemed lost in the story.

In truth, Fíli wasn't even listening. He knew he should, of course, but she was so close to him, how could he pay attention to fairy stories when he had a genuine fairy right here? Her skin glowed rosy in the firelight, her eyes moving slowly over the page as her pink lips formed the words. Something tightened and tugged in his chest as he watched her, and he had the strange sensation there were tiny cords connecting his heart to hers.

How could he have been so lucky? When he'd first been told of Thorin's plans to arrange his bride, he'd accepted it as his duty, even if his pride railed against it. The decree seemed a step too far, and he received no comfort that his mother and father had married in such a way. He'd hoped he would grow to care for her in time, that they might reach a sort of tentative camaraderie at least, united in their desires to serve their people. But his feelings now were far beyond a mere grudging acceptance.

While she read, she let the fingers of her left hand run along the edges of the book's pages, while her right rested beneath it, cradling the spine. Fíli slipped his left hand beneath the book to find hers. Her reading only faltered for a moment as their fingers intertwined, out of sight of Mother and Idunn. He ran his thumb along the back of her hand, gently caressing her soft skin until the color rose in her cheeks.

They stayed that way for some time, she reading stories and poetry, he utterly lost in her nearness. It bordered on foolishness, this infatuation, but he'd much rather embrace it than temper it. He was only startled out of his reverie when Kíli burst into the room again.

"How do you endure it?" Kíli asked as he dropped into an armchair beside Idunn. "Meetings, droning on and on. What is your opinion on this? What is your opinion on that? I'll tell you what my opinion is." He raised his hands in front of him as though strangling someone.

Mother laughed. "You have as much patience as Thorin."

Kíli glanced around the room. "This is all I've missed, is it? Reading and embroidery? I might have had the better morning, then."

"Astrid and I were planning to go to the market today," Idunn said.

Kíli rolled his eyes. "Worse, if you ask me."

"I might like to join you," Mother said. "It's been some time since I went down to the markets."

"No," Astrid said quickly. Then she seemed to see the impertinence of such an abrupt refusal. "No, we...we might not go after all. But perhaps we could all go another day." Her mouth twisted as though she didn't like her own words.

Fíli wondered that she would refuse Mother's company so directly. She'd seemed comfortable enough with her before. Certainly she was more at ease with Mother than Thorin, although that wasn't saying much. It was a rare dwarf who sought out _his_ company. But if Mother were hurt at all by Astrid's reluctance to spend the afternoon together, she gave no indication.

"Perhaps another day, then," she said.

"I would like that," Astrid said with more warmth than before.

Fíli squeezed her hand beneath their book. "Will you let me see you to your rooms?"

"I don't know about that," Kíli said, "with your tender ribs, I fear so much walking might finally do you in. Better not to risk it, and let me take the ladies."

"No one need take us if it comes to that," Idunn said.

"Óin said a little walking would do me good as I recover," Fíli said. In truth, he should probably be doing more than he was. Walking seemed a great challenge when just breathing deeply still pained him.

Astrid returned their book to its spot on Mother's shelves. He stood slowly and joined her. Idunn gathered up her own embroidery and they all took their leave of Mother, who waved them away with apparent indifference. These last few days had made little difference in the amount of pain that shot through him every time he moved, but he trusted Óin's assurance that a few weeks would be enough to see him fully recovered.

In the corridor, Astrid took Fíli's good arm while he had his other held tightly against his chest. They reached Astrid's and Idunn's rooms in but a few minutes. Kíli saw Idunn into hers, bidding her copious farewells. Fíli could hear Idunn's laughter even as she shut her door. Kíli turned to Fíli and Astrid, who yet stood in front of Astrid's door.

"Is there a problem?" Kíli asked, glancing between them and the door. "Can you not turn the handle?"

He deserved a smack for the smirk alone. He loved tormenting him, and given's Fíli current physical state, he took advantage of the easy target.

"We're fine, thank you," Fíli said. "I'll return to Mother's sitting room shortly."

Kíli shot him a significant look. "See that you do."

Once Kíli had safely disappeared around the corner of the corridor, Fíli turned to Astrid. She smiled up at him and it was only his injury that kept him from wrapping her in his arms at once. He lightly took her hand in his as a first step.

"You don't need to be nervous around Mother," he said. "She may seem stern - well, she _is_ stern - but she likes you."

Astrid's sweet smile turned down into a look of dismay. "Do you think I offended her? I didn't mean to."

"I can't say. I'm sure she's fine. I just want to be sure you know you need not fear her."

"I know that. It's just...I have some things to buy that I'd rather she didn't see. I can't say more."

"Secrets?" he said leaning closer to her. "What is all this about?"

"I cannot say more," she said again in her own stern voice. For all her show of seriousness, she had to work to keep her lips from curling into a smile.

Oh, those lips. He leaned closer still and her gaze dropped down to his own mouth. Now she did smile, and she stretched her neck up to reach him, meeting him halfway. She was soft and warm, her mouth the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He cupped her face in both hands, running his thumbs along the delicate whiskers that skimmed below her ears. She moved her hands to his waist, holding him lightly to avoid aggravating his injury. They'd already learned an enthusiastic embrace ended quickly with jolts of pain.

He couldn't guess how long they'd stood so, wrapped in each other's arms, when he heard a loud footstep coming down the corridor. He pulled away and sighed, knowing his brother was not too subtly signaling him of his approach. Their lingering absence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"I'll see you at supper," he whispered. Astrid's eyes were dark and dazed, as though she was just waking from a dream. He nearly pulled her to him again, but Kíli had rounded the corner.

"Is the door still giving you trouble?" Kíli asked with affected innocence.

Astrid pulled away from Fíli, her eyes cast down. She opened her door and ducked inside, but before she closed it behind her, she shot him one last look that lit everything inside him on fire all over again.

Kíli grinned. "If you're well enough to snog Astrid in the corridors, I'd say you're well enough to sit in on these meetings. Mahal knows you'd get more rest that way."

Fíli said nothing as they returned down the halls. He ached from a desire he could not yet fulfill, but there was a shimmer of something more within it. It wasn't just a physical desire - although that was growing stronger by the day - but something he didn't want to name, something fragile in the midst of his other, more obvious needs.

Something that was binding him so tightly to Astrid that even his brother's most ridiculous attempts to get under his skin couldn't touch him.

* * *

Due to Prince Fíli's injuries, he and Astrid were largely confined to Lady Dis's sitting room in the weeks after the skirmish. At first Idunn was glad for the change of scenery and company, but she soon found the alteration even more uncomfortable than before. Fíli and Astrid would sit together holding hands and speaking low, while Idunn and Lady Dís pretended not to notice. At least in the library or walking the great halls they had enjoyed some semblance of privacy, but here there was no way to avoid intrusion. No wonder Kíli had begged off sitting room duties.

"Although I'm half-inclined to stay, just to see them forget where they are and embarrass themselves," he had said to Idunn in an undertone. "And yet - " he made a show of shivering, "best to avoid it."

And so Idunn sat for hours at a time chatting lightly with Dís while they worked on embroidery, all the while worried Kíli's whispered predictions would come true. When she had warned Astrid against any show of impropriety in such close quarters, Astrid had blushed scarlet and said nothing. This only confirmed rather than refuted Idunn's concerns.

Occasionally King Thorin joined their little party in the sitting room, which both relieved and agitated Idunn. Fíli and Astrid seemed more on their guard when Thorin was among them - at the very least, they left a sliver of space between them on the settee while they talked over all manner of nothings. Even so, Thorin spoke little during those afternoons, leaving Idunn to battle her own awkward thoughts.

"I think I'll go for a walk," she said one day as she set aside her embroidery. "If that's all right with you, my lady."

"Of course," Lady Dís said with a short wave, "no need for all of us to keep watch." She flashed a small smile at Idunn. Their charges had no attention for anyone but each other, and seemed not to have heard.

Idunn stood and was about to give a quick curtsy to Thorin when he said, "I'll join you."

Her heart was always on edge in his presence, but now it started to race in earnest at the unexpected suggestion. Hoping to conceal her surprise, and even more so her pleasure, she simply nodded and the two left the room.

They walked the royal corridor in silence, Idunn matching her pace to Thorin's stilted gait. He seemed to move faster than he once had done, but that might have been because they were short three companions who enjoyed dawdling, rather than any true change in ability or inclination.

"Where are we going?" he said at last.

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I just needed..." She glanced over her shoulder as though Fíli and Astrid might be in pursuit, cooing at each other hand in hand. "I needed a change of scenery."

Thorin's mouth twisted into a wry grimace. "I cannot lose both my chaperones right when I need them most." His tone was light, and Idunn couldn't help but match his attitude.

"I'm not abandoning my duties, I assure you."

"Not permanently, at any rate."

"I will return, I promise, it was just..." She wasn't quite sure how to explain herself. Thorin was straightforward, so she opted for the truth. "It's rather awkward to be witness to such new and ardent affections."

Thorin barked a laugh. "What did you think your duties would consist of when you agreed to come?"

"I wasn't at all sure the two would ever - " She stopped herself, but she had already said too much.

Thorin's eyes narrowed and his steps slowed. "You weren't sure they would ever come to love each other."

She tried to think of some other explanation for her words, but found she couldn't lie to him. "No, I wasn't." She thought of that first night months ago when she had comforted Astrid's timid fears of never knowing love. No, she hadn't been at all sure what would come of this royal betrothal.

"You think me cruel for asking so much of them." Thorin's words were statement of fact, not a question.

"I don't," she said too hastily to be entirely believed. He watched her keenly as she gathered her thoughts. "I think you are trying to do what you think best, in the best way you know how."

"That is a very polite way of saying you think I'm in the wrong," he said with a short laugh. "I should have you at the negotiation table, you would keep us all from trampling each other with our blunt honesty."

They had left the royal corridors and now slowly approached the edges of Erebor's central halls. To the left ran the hallway Kíli had taken them down on their first walk with Thorin, while the one to the right opened up to the Main Hall. Idunn slowed until he was slightly ahead of her, leaving the choice of where they walked up to him. He took tentative steps down the hallway to the right, his eyes moving over the dwarves in the distance as though wary of them.

"I do not think you are in the wrong," she said. "Your request was unexpected, but I understand your motives."

Thorin's gaze slid to meet hers. "Do you?"

"I think I do."

"Explain them to me, then, for I would like to understand myself so well as you do."

Had his voice not had a ruffle of playfulness to it she would have demurred answering and redirected the conversation. As it was, his almost mischievous attitude emboldened her.

"You are building Erebor from two lands. A marriage between them would join us all the more fully as allies and protect us against threats both from without and within."

"One should hope I have nothing to fear from my allies." His voice was flat and humorless, so she charged on.

"You would want your heir to marry into one of the highest houses of the Iron Hills, a family whose name and status would befit your own," she said.

"I sense some embellishment but go on."

"And rather than wait and hope for the best, you secured an arranged marriage to save both time and effort."

"You paint heartlessness as efficiency. Clever."

As the corridor opened up, Thorin stopped, and they stood on the edge of the hall as dwarves moved about their business. He seemed strangely detached, and kept his eyes on the bustling strangers even as he pursued his light conversation with her.

"I daresay they are quite content with your choice," she pointed out.

"And she dances around my heartlessness," he said, letting his eyes drift to her again. "Yet I heard you say nothing of my callous trade delays. Or is that included in my general heartlessness, and mentioning it would only be repetitious?"

"I have never called you heartless to my knowledge."

He looked as though he were trying not to smile. "That clarification isn't very reassuring."

"When I lived in the Iron Hills I could only see the arrangement from our side," she said. "Now that I live here, I am beginning to see it from yours."

They kept to the fringes of the Main Hall, but the arrival of the King Under the Mountain could not go unnoticed. The dwarves bobbed curtsies and nodded simple acknowledgements until they became a blur in Idunn's vision. A few stopped to stare, or look over their shoulders as they pretended to be occupied with something else. Idunn couldn't help but conclude that Thorin did not often appear in his own halls. She had heard as much from market gossips, but she was old enough not to put too much stock in such talk. In this, it seemed, the gossips had been right.

Other gossip had reached her ears in her months in the Mountain, whispers that perhaps Dáin would be better suited to rule Erebor than Thorin. This attitude of watchfulness made her think the grumblings had reached Thorin's ears, too. While she could hardly believe Dáin would try to take the throne from him, being doubted by his own people must be difficult enough to endure.

"When my father established his halls in the Blue Mountains, do you know one of the first things he did?" Like his subjects in the Main Hall, Thorin tried for a casualness that his tightly-wound shoulders and darting eyes didn't quite support. "He arranged for my sister's marriage. What better way to unite a new realm than with a celebration of life and looking forward to future generations to come? Erebor was hard won, and now we, too, must look to the future."

This was a side of the arrangement she had not contemplated before. Her thoughts had been so taken up with whether Astrid were happy or not and what would befall the Hills, she had not considered what a marriage celebration would mean for the dwarves of Erebor. Thorin was right, of course - the celebration would unite them in a way nothing else could, not even battling a common enemy.

"I did consider their happiness in this arrangement, whatever else you might suspect," he said as he watched the dwarves of his mountain pass by. "It took months of meetings and letters from Dáin to settle on Astrid for Fíli. I didn't choose her at random, or accept the first girl Dáin put forward. There were other families, other daughters, but none of _them_ could compare to you or Astrid."

She was struck that he had bothered to include her in the compliment, considering how he had initially slighted her so openly. Perhaps it shouldn't have delighted her so but it did.

His eyes had slid back to her. "I can see you don't believe me."

"You put far too many words in my mouth, sire. You may trust me to speak my own mind."

"Indeed I can. In that case - " Thorin's words were swallowed up by a low moan, and his face became a mask of pain.

"What is it?" She took him by the wrist and his hand twisted to grip hers as though she could pull him from his misery. His gaze darted to the dwarves of the hall, who watched their king's every move from the corners of their eyes. He eased away the grimace, but his efforts to keep his face still and somber were more troubling to her than his open expression of pain.

"It's nothing," he said as he dropped her hand.

"There's a bench just behind us," she said, keeping her voice low.

He acknowledged her suggestion with a slight nod and followed her to the stone seat. She made no further move to assist him. When they were seated she smoothed her skirts and smiled at the onlookers as though everything were perfectly fine.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked under her breath.

"My leg - spasms - sometimes," he said almost without moving his lips. "There's nothing to do but wait."

Thorin's hand gripped the bench between them until his knuckles stood out white, and his injured leg shook slightly, but he kept his face as still as stone. Only a twitch of his eyes and the tight line of his mouth gave any hint that he was in pain, and not merely bored with the view of his own halls. That he could conceal such pain so well only made her heart go out to him all the more. She reached for his hand again out of instinct but stopped herself when she remembered how he had scorned such a gesture a moment before.

A soldier approached and bowed before Thorin. "Can I be of any assistance, my king?"

"I need nothing," Thorin said with a practiced indifference.

The soldier's eyes slid down to Thorin's leg as though he suspected the source of the lie.

"I was winded after our long walk down to the Main Hall," Idunn said. She placed a hand on her chest and heaved deep breaths in proof. "I'm not used to walking so much."

The soldier turned his gaze to her as he took in her theatrics. She smiled apologetically and leaned lightly against the wall as though she had no more energy left to expend.

"I see." His gaze moved between the two, but he straightened again. "If you need anything, I am at your service." He gave a deep bow to Thorin and a quick nod to her before walking away again.

The moment the soldier was out of earshot, Thorin hissed, "I don't need you to do that."

All the pain that had lined his eyes moments ago was now replaced by a seething anger, and she recoiled from his venom. "I was trying to help."

"I don't need your help. I am no invalid."

Before she could form a reply, Thorin stood and walked away.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

Idunn strode through Erebor's royal corridors not knowing where she was headed, all she knew was that she needed the walk. Now that Fíli was largely recovered from his injuries, he had returned to his usual duties in the Mountain, leaving Idunn's days free again. She was no longer expected to keep watch over his and Astrid's daily interactions, but now new complications had taken her by surprise.

She found she could hardly stand to listen to Astrid convey her endless joy. Somehow her cousin's detailed descriptions of her hopes for the future chafed, all her delighted talk became like a sliver she could not pluck out. All the polite smiles Idunn bestowed over their conversations couldn't alter the irritation that reigned in her breast. When Astrid said she wanted to draw for a while that morning, Idunn immediately set out, to where, she did not know or care.

It wasn't like her, this vexation at another's happiness. Astrid without a doubt deserved all the joy she could find with Fíli, and meant no harm in her vocal enjoyment of it. Idunn had never begrudged a friend their romances before, so why should it bother her now?

She trailed her fingers along the detailed stonework set into the walls as she slowly walked the halls, hardly looking up to see where she was going. She might not have had a destination in mind when she set out, but her feet had led her straight to Erebor's library. On seeing its ornate archway, she hoped she might find a respite from the uneasiness that pressed in on her like a narrowing mineshaft.

She had only taken a few steps beneath the arched doorway when she stopped short. King Thorin was within, seated in an armchair with a book held open in one hand. For just a moment she debated whether she should leave again, as _he_ had always been the one to intrude on _her_ visits there, but she decided she would not be scared away by royal protocol. She had never let it bother her before.

She stepped farther into the library and Thorin looked up, the strands of silver in his dark hair shimmering as he turned his head. His eyebrows twitched, but he didn't seem surprised to see her.

"Idunn," he said in a voice as rich as velvet, "good morning."

"Good morning, sire," she said as she bobbed a quick curtsey. "I didn't expect to find you here."

He gestured for her to take a seat. "Where did you think I would be?"

"With Fíli gone back to his daily routine," she said as she settled into a chair, "I suppose I expected you to be in a meeting somewhere, listening to residents of the Mountain air their grievances."

His mouth spread into a smile as he watched her. "Why do you think I have him taking over the meetings?"

She had to laugh, pleased he seemed in such good spirits this morning. Some days it was difficult to know which version of the King she would find when she met with him. He'd shaken off the brusque manners and dour demeanor he'd had when she first arrived, but sometimes a hint of those ill humors darkened his moods once again.

"Your cousin will be at a loss for what to do with herself now Fíli no longer needs her constant care," he said.

Those afternoons when they'd all sat together in Dís's sitting room, she'd noticed he seemed to view Astrid's attentions to Fíli with a subtle look of distaste. He had never said anything against it, but certainly he would never submit to the same sort of vigilant affection as Fíli had endured.

"She has been rather overenthusiastic, but she means well," she said.

"A man grows tired of constant fussing."

"Or any at all."

He shifted slightly as he gazed back at her. "Where it is unwarranted, yes."

Stubborn dwarf. He could be bleeding from an open wound and he would still deny he needed anyone's help.

"Is there a situation where it would be warranted, do you think?" she asked.

"Nothing comes to mind."

She couldn't help but smile. How could such obstinance be so charming? He probably wouldn't like to be described with such a word, but now and then it fit.

"Some dislike being taken care of just as some dislike being told what to do," he said, his eyes glinting as she caught his meaning.

"You cannot be referring to me, sire," she said, only slightly exaggerating her genuine surprise. "I believe I have done my best to follow orders in your halls."

He barked a laugh. "Whether you followed the orders or not wasn't my point. That you dislike being given them is."

"Does anyone enjoy being ordered about?" A dangerous thing to ask a King, she knew.

"On the face of it, no," he conceded. "But you in particular seem to have a strong dislike for any perceived intrusion on your autonomy."

She straightened primly in her chair. "Where it is unwarranted, yes."

He laughed, rich and full, and the sound seemed to echo through her whole body. For being so rarely heard, his laughter was infectious, and she took it up as well. She could have stayed right there listening to him laugh for hours on end, if only he would oblige. Then the moment seemed to stretch and thin between them, their merriment giving way to something more difficult to define.

When their laughter dissolved entirely she was left gazing into his steel blue eyes. She drew in a deep breath as though waking from a daze. Oh, no. This would never do.

"Forgive me for my intrusion," she said, standing abruptly. He, too, stood, and she wished he hadn't - better to remain seated where she could imagine he didn't care if she stayed or went, than stand so that she could imagine he _did_. "I'd best see what Astrid has got up to."

He seemed surprised at her sudden desire to leave, and moved as though he would speak, so she bobbed another quick curtsy. "Sire," she said by way of goodbye, before she darted out of the library.

Once she was safely outside the library's doors, she put a hand to her chest as though she could stop the emotions that raged there. But no, Thorin was right. Her heart disliked being told what to do.

* * *

The weeks of Fíli's recovery passed and yet Thorin did nothing to ease the grudge that lay between them since the orc skirmish. He still had yet to speak more than a few words at a time to either him or Kíli, and while he wasn't abrasive, his brooding was never a good sign. Mother had said she'd spoken with him but gave no further details. Whatever they had discussed, little had changed. Thorin steadily avoided anything more than the most basic of conversations with the brothers.

Instead, Thorin now contented himself by ignoring Fíli and Kíli, while engaging the women in conversation in the sitting room or over supper. This seemed a show designed for the brothers' sake, since he had never been one to lavish much conversation on anyone. And yet for weeks now he spoke with more decided interest with Idunn and Mother, and occasionally even Astrid, than Fíi had seen him do for some time.

Fíli had invited Balin and Dwalin to dine with them that evening, if for no other reason than to take advantage of Thorin's current good mood. Mahal knew it was unlikely to last.

"I must say what a thrill this is," Balin said with a twinkle in his eyes, "to dine with three such fine ladies. Usually I am stuck with only my brother for company."

"If I'm such a burden, I may look to find my supper elsewhere," Dwalin grumbled.

"Now, now, Brother, you must admit a meal among bachelors seems awfully sorry when compared to a meal with lassies to liven things up." Balin winked at Idunn, who smiled in return.

Dwalin side-eyed Idunn as though he had not noticed her before. "I suppose," he said.

She tipped her glass to him. "I will take that as a compliment."

Mother laughed beside Fíli. "You'll find these dwarves know nothing of how to behave around women, Idunn."

"For shame," Kíli said in mock offense. "When has my behavior towards women been anything less than ideal in every way?"

Mother raised her eyebrows at Kíli's boast. "Oh, I'll give you you and your brother. Rather let me say then that Thorin and Dwalin are hewn from the same stone, Idunn, and unlikely to alter their behavior for any woman."

"I would expect nothing less," Idunn said.

"What news of the orcs, Dwalin?" Thorin asked, ignoring their comments.

Mother sighed. "Now is hardly the time for talk of orcs, Thorin."

Dwalin, however, was always up for talk of orcs. "No sightings since the last, when Fíli here outdid us all." The smile he cast on Fíli was ferocious in its pride. "My soldiers send their regards to the Crown Prince. Every day someone asks after you, as though I'm your nursemaid and not your captain."

Fíli suppressed a smile at Dwalin's reminder he was still his captain. Dwalin was loyal to Thorin, but he knew Fíli and Kíli weren't about to change their minds on this. They would fight now whether Thorin accepted it or not. "You may tell them I am on the mend, and expect to join them again at the next opportunity."

He glanced towards Astrid, who positively beamed. That she encouraged his efforts and took pride in him for them bolstered him all the more. He found himself wanting to go to battle again, to fight harder and stronger, all for her sake.

Dwalin shifted as he glanced to Astrid on his other side. "I almost forgot you had a nursemaid of your own, now. No wonder you're so well in hand."

A flush of pink danced across Astrid's cheeks, but she glanced up at Fíli with a bold smile. Fire lit in his chest in answer, and he wished they were anywhere but the dinner table just now. They had had little time entirely to themselves since they first realized how much they craved it. What he wouldn't give for just a few minutes utterly alone with her. Maybe more than a few. An hour, bare minimum.

"I've been a boon, too, have I not?" Kíli said. "Brother?" His prompting brought Fíli out of his wholly inappropriate thoughts of Astrid.

"If by boon you mean an annoyance, then I completely agree."

Kíli grinned, undaunted. He knew the direction of Fíli's thoughts. He always knew. "Without me you would have been in a great deal more trouble by now, I'm sure of it." He glanced meaningfully at Astrid.

"Shall we retire to the hearth?" Fíli said before his brother's gloating could grow any more explicit.

No sooner had they taken their seats around the fire than there was a soft knock at the door. From without, the guard opened it and gave entrance to a young dwarf bearing a large blue box.

"I have a delivery for Miss Astrid," the girl said, carefully avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

With a soft intake of breath, Astrid rushed forward to receive the box, letting the girl who had delivered it bow out of the room again. When Astrid turned to face them, her cheeks were pink but she couldn't conceal a look of pleasure.

Without warning, jealousy coiled in Fíli's chest like a snake that had only been biding its time to strike. Whatever was in that box would have to go. He hadn't ordered anything for her, and if another had...he hardly liked to think what he might do.

Astrid brought the box to the hearth, where all eyes were on her. Fíli's heart raced as he spun through possibilities of who might have sent his betrothed wife a gift. But instead of bringing the box to where she had been sitting at his side so she could open it, she stopped in front of Mother.

"This is an odd time," she said with a quick glance at Balin and Dwalin. "I didn't realize we would have other guests with us, but...well, this is for you." She gently laid the box in Mother's lap.

All of the new jealousy that had been building in Fíli's heart melted away to fondness. The gift was for _Mother_?

Mother looked up at Astrid with a sort of skeptical anticipation. She didn't go in much for lavish gifts, either giving or receiving, but Astrid could not have known that. She loosened the ribbon that bound the box and slid off the top. As she pulled thin fabric out of the way, a soft sigh escaped her. "Oh, my dear."

Kíli was immediately on his feet and crowded behind Mother's shoulder to see what was inside. He glanced from the box to Astrid, and then over his shoulder at Fíli. He just shook his head as though in wonder, but the smile he gave Fíli was all affection. Even Dwalin craned his neck to take a look and nodded in appreciation.

Fíli could wait no longer, and he, too, rose from his place to edge forward. Inside the box was a richly framed charcoal portrait of himself, so alike he might have been looking into a mirror. He wore a stern nobility in the portrait, but Astrid had captured a gentleness to his eyes that kept him from seeming too grim. Mother pulled the portrait out and held it a moment before passing it to Thorin. She unfolded another length of fabric to reveal a similar portrait of Kíli.

"I know you said we could wait on the betrothal gifts given to the families," Astrid said as she knotted her hands together. "Fíli and Kíli said you didn't have portraits of them, and, well, I thought you should."

Mother gazed at the image of Kíli. In it he looked rather more regal and fearsome than Fíli thought Astrid had ever seen him, and yet the spark of mischief in his eyes suited him exactly. All was quiet as the others passed around Fíli's portrait and looked on it in awe. Tears shone in Mother's eyes in the firelight, and she gently set the box and Kíli's portrait aside. She stood and wrapped Astrid in a warm embrace.

"Thank you, my dear, thank you." Her voice was husky with emotion, and it looked as though she might squeeze the breath from Astrid's lungs she held so tight, yet Astrid's face was a vision of joy. When at last she let go, she placed one hand on Astrid's cheek. "I couldn't ask for better."

Fíli nearly elbowed his own mother aside to get to Astrid and take her in his arms himself. "This is what you've been working on all this time?" he asked.

"They're not for the portrait hall," she said quickly. "Just for Lady Dís. A mother should have portraits of her sons."

Fíli couldn't help himself. He kissed Astrid full on the mouth, and only considered the impropriety when he heard the assorted sounds of amusement from the others. When he pulled back, Astrid's face was flushed pink but soft with delight.

"Mother," he said, keeping his eyes on Astrid, "I need to speak with Astrid alone."

"I suppose you'd better," Mother said with a laugh.

Fíli took Astrid's hand in his and led her to the door. As they went he heard Balin say, "Looks like we picked the right day to come to supper."

* * *

Astrid hardly knew how she returned to her chambers when her feet couldn't touch the floor. Fíli had kissed her in front of his nearest family and friends - she knew full well why he wanted to be alone, and her heart soared at the idea. How one already betrothed could be so overjoyed to receive a proposal, she didn't know.

They couldn't seem to look at anything but each other as they wove through the corridors before finally reaching her door. As soon as they were closed up inside, Fíli had her hands in his.

"Astrid," he said in solemn tones, before a grin danced across his mouth. He quieted himself again in a moment, his pale blue eyes gazing straight into hers as though he could see her very heart. "I want you at my side, Astrid, all the rest of my days. Will you be my wife?"

She had imagined saying something heartfelt in return when he finally asked her, something that spoke of her love and admiration. Instead, she was so overcome her throat burned and her eyes swam with waiting tears. When she tried to speak, it came out a sob.

He gave her hands a squeeze and pulled her closer. "Is that a yes?"

Tears spilled onto her cheeks as all the joy that spun inside her left her speechless. If she couldn't be eloquent at least she could say a single word. "Yes."

He took her in his arms and kissed her with the ardor of a requited lover until all her tears were gone. She seemed to melt into him, ready to follow wherever he might lead. This bliss would lead into depths she was unprepared for, she knew, but that didn't stop her from wanting more.

He finally kissed her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers. "My own Astrid," he whispered.

"I love you, Fíli." The words that had swirled within her breast for months now at last were free to be spoken aloud. However they had first come together, her heart was forever his, and his alone.

His hands were in her hair as he caressed her face. "I adore you." He kissed her again with a sweetness that echoed his words in every touch. When at last he pulled back, it was only to hold her tight against his chest, where his heart beat wildly beneath her ear. "It will be hard to wait for spring."

Astrid laughed against him, for she had been thinking exactly the same thing.

* * *

Late in the evening, Idunn crept into Astrid's rooms. A candle still burned by her bedside, and although she sat up in her nightdress, she wasn't reading. As she had another night long months ago, Idunn curled her legs up beneath her at the foot of Astrid's bed.

"I can't sleep," Astrid said needlessly. The smile she wore seemed etched into her face as though it would never leave again.

"I can't think why."

She pressed her hands against her cheeks as though she could contain her joyous expression. "I'm too happy to sleep."

"I didn't know that was a possibility."

"Oh, Idunn, it's too much happiness, it really is."

"It certainly looked that way in the dining room."

Her cheeks glowed in the candlelight. "I suppose it was improper of him to kiss me so, but it spoke of unashamed devotion."

"It did indeed."

Astrid swatted lightly at Idunn's shoulder. "Can you not be serious? This is the happiest night of my life." Idunn arched a knowing eyebrow and Astrid glanced away. "So far," she added softly.

"Tell me, have your fears of never knowing love been allayed?"

She grinned again in answer. "I love him more than I thought possible. I didn't know if I would, but I do, more than anything, and I'm so very happy. Oh, Idunn, I wish the same for you. Can you not find someone to make you happy?" Her expression altered as she realized the impudence of what she'd said. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have - "

"Do not apologize for wishing me joy," Idunn said with a warm smile she did not entirely feel. "If only such a dwarf existed. For now, I can be content to know you love Fíli and are loved by him in return."

The mere mention of her beloved's name seemed to send Astrid into raptures all over again.

"Try to get some rest, won't you?" Idunn said. "You have some months yet before your wedding."

Astrid took up Idunn's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're here with me."

"As am I."

Idunn slipped back into her own room and into her bed. She tossed some moments, seeking comfort she couldn't find. At last she lay on her back and opened her eyes into the darkness. Astrid's words cut into her again and again: _Can you not find someone to make you happy?_

She wouldn't have called herself unhappy in the Iron Hills nor strictly happy in Erebor. She hadn't gone looking for someone who made her happy, but she had found someone who made her _feel_. Sometimes that feeling was an intense aggravation, but more often than not it was a deep admiration in the midst of their growing companionship, an unsought affection she knew she was ridiculous to allow to take hold in her heart. Of all the foolish things for her to do in Erebor, falling in love with the King was possibly the worst, but she doubted very much it could ever be undone.


	14. Chapter 14

The House of Durin doesn't do anything by halves, Idunn had learned that much in her time in Erebor. Prince Fíli and Astrid's betrothal was announced the very next day, with a celebration banquet planned at the end of a week. Astrid and Idunn's anonymity had utterly vanished, as they realized the moment they first stepped foot into the Main Hall. Strangers smiled and nodded at them, and a few of the younger, bolder girls bobbed curtsies to Astrid. Now and then a gray-haired old dwarrowdam would take up Astrid's hand and wish her the common blessing of many children. With some dismay, Idunn noted some few mothers who cast evil glances Astrid's way, likely for dashing their daughters' hopes of the same future with the Crown Prince.

Lady Dís had instructed them to meet her at the seamstress's shops that afternoon. When they arrived she was already laden with fabrics for new dresses for the celebration. "I'll not be refused," she said as she lifted a pale green velvet to Astrid's shoulder before casting it aside. "You're due some presents, are you not, my dear?"

"You're really too kind," Astrid began, but she was cut off with a _tsk_ from Dís, and that was the end of her brief attempt at argument.

Dís went through bundles of fabric, each one not quite perfect enough for Astrid's betrothal celebration dress, until they lay in an untidy heap on the floor. Idunn was sure Astrid had never given this much thought to the color of her gowns in her life. But then, Dís had no daughters, and if she wished to shower such attention on Fíli's bride, who should prevent her?

Finally she found a velvet in pale rose that made Astrid's coloring glow like a glimmering sunset. Dís paired it with a gold silk and passed the bundles of fabric to a waiting seamstress before turning her attention to Idunn. "Now you, my dear."

"Oh, no," she said, but Dís was already laying lengths of fabric across her shoulders. "I can wear something I already have."

She had gold for a new dress of course, but hadn't thought it necessary, as all eyes would be fixed on Astrid for the celebration. One of her new gowns from the Iron Hills would do well enough, and her finest one had only been lightly worn in Erebor.

"I'll hear none of it," Dís said as she tossed another length of fabric behind her. "I'm in a mood to dress you both, and you'll not refuse me." She adjusted a bolt of silk beneath Idunn's chin before rejecting it. "This is to be the biggest celebration the Mountain has seen since its renewal, and we should all of us be turned out in the very finest."

Seamstresses took Astrid's measurements and started drawing up designs for her gown while Idunn stood helpless as Dís tried color after color. Nothing satisfied her, and Idunn was resigning herself to simply wearing her own dress after all when Dís said, "Oh, of course. I should have known. That's very nice. Perfect, in fact."

Dís pulled a lock of Idunn's hair down to lay across the deep blue velvet she'd draped across her shoulders. "Yes, this will do very well." As she passed the fabric along, she hummed to herself in a way that gave Idunn an odd sense of foreboding. In a moment she pushed the ridiculous thought away. What could possibly be ominous about a dress?

* * *

The night of the celebration, Thrór's chambers were packed full until dwarves spilled out into the halls, nearly standing atop one another in their quest for a good view. It was as Thorin had always known - the announcement of Crown Prince Fíli's betrothal was exactly what the Mountain had needed to boost their spirits and unite their hearts. He pressed his lips together, thinking perhaps that wasn't all they wanted, but it would be enough for now.

He stood on a dais at one end of the vast hall with Dís at his side as they waited for Fíli and Astrid to arrive. Apart from his walk with Idunn in the Main Hall nearly two weeks past, he had not been on display in such a way since the Great Battle. His leg itched and twitched beneath his fine clothes, and it was all he could do not to fidget in front of the throngs. He would have been perfectly happy to return to his study with a mug of ale and a leg of lamb, and leave the revelers to themselves. As it was, he would have to endure the spectacle.

An awed silence pushed its way through the crowd like a physical thing as it preceded the couple down the corridor. Thousands of dwarves within Thrór's chambers hushed as all eyes strained towards the doorway, waiting for their glimpse of the guests of honor. Finally Fíli appeared with Astrid on his arm, and the crowds erupted into thunderous applause. The couple radiated their joy as they slowly walked through the shouting and cheering residents of Erebor.

Behind them, Thorin saw Idunn on Kíli's arm and at the sight of her his heart seemed to constrict in his chest. He turned to Dís. "What did you do?" he hissed, barely hearing his own voice over the crowd's cheers.

She raised her eyebrows in innocence and merely clapped along with all the others.

Idunn wore a deep blue velvet dress that exactly matched the color of his own dark tunic. Where his bore silver detailing only at the edging, hers shone throughout with specks of silver light that danced in her skirts. When she moved it was like the shimmering of starlight against a dusky sky. Her hair was pulled up into braids that twisted together at the back of her head, and even that had been bedecked with sparkling facets that caught the light.

"She's a vision, is she not?" Dís's satisfied grin all but erased Thorin's eager interest in Idunn's appearance. It was tacit confirmation of her meddling, and he had no wish to encourage her in her schemes. "No sense in her cousin getting all the glory."

By now Fíli and Astrid had nearly reached them, preventing further conversation, but Thorin would give his sister an earful later. Even as Idunn shimmered at the edges of his view, he stubbornly refused to look at her.

The noise of the crowd died down as he stepped forward to meet the couple at the foot of the dais. He took their hands in each of his before joining them and raising them in the air for all to see.

"I present to you Prince Fíli of Erebor, and Astrid of the Iron Hills, who are to be wed with their families' blessings. Let us rejoice with them."

The momentary silence was split with renewed applause: with his brief announcement, the betrothal ceremony was already over. Their wedding would only be slightly more complicated. Dwarves preferred celebration over formalities. Give them tradition, but keep it short. Before he had dropped the couple's hands, music was struck up and the tables laden with food were already being pillaged by folk eager to get their fill.

Dís had disappeared. A wise choice, considering Thorin's irritation with her. What had she been thinking, dressing Idunn to match him as though he had claimed her as his own? Whatever Dís thought she was pushing him towards, she could put it right out of her head.

As dancing and mingling began in earnest, Thorin was left with two poor choices: sit upon his throne and watch the festivities like a brooding ogre, or walk through the throngs and mingle. Neither could paint a pleasant picture, but he knew his duty lay with his people. He stepped off the dais on halting legs that refused to work as they should, before being caught up by the other merrymakers.

He found it easy to slip through the crowds, nodding to those he passed but making little conversation. Few had more than a hello for him, and most simply bowed out of his way and made themselves scarce. A brooding ogre made for a poor mingler.

Finally he saw Dwalin and Balin, and crossed the room to join them. They stood on the edge of a group of dancers, close enough for a good view but far enough to give themselves easy access to the barrels of ale that waited at the ready. Dwalin was already well into his mug, and filled one for Thorin.

Balin clapped him on the shoulder. "Laddie, you've done well. Miss Astrid was a fine choice, and the Mountain couldn't be happier for the couple."

"Fíli is the one who deserves your congratulations, not I."

"Oh, and I'll tell him, if ever he takes time to look away from his lovely bride-to-be." Balin nodded towards the dancers. Fíli and Astrid were among them, but how they managed the steps, Thorin couldn't guess, for they saw nothing but each other. Their obvious joy served to work away a portion of the bitterness that churned through him. Their betrothal, at least, was something he had got right.

His eye was caught by a deep blue dress shot with starlight. Idunn danced among the others - with Nori, in fact. How, with a mountain of dwarves at her disposal, had she wound up dancing with Nori? He was not the worst of Thorin's company but he was by no means the best. He took every possible opportunity to whisper something to her, no doubt filling her ears with flattery. She smiled and laughed at his talk, and something in her easiness kindled an absurd anger within Thorin's breast.

He turned slightly away from the dancers, but the music and laughter rang in his ears. Balin clapped in time, and even Dwalin tapped a foot. He knew he should at least act the joyous host even if he did not feel it, but he was in no mood to pretend at merriment now.

The music ended and some of the couples dispersed. Fíli and Astrid remained, ready to dance another round. They had better be prepared to do so all night, as they would be expected to dance and smile among their people for hours yet to come. Idunn tried to sidle past Dwalin as another song was struck up, but she was stopped by Balin.

"You're a fine dancer, Miss Idunn," he said as he passed her a mug of ale. "Not that our Nori is the best indicator."

"Oh, he did very well," she said with a gracious smile. She glanced over her shoulder to where Nori danced with another willing victim. Considering the direction of Thorin's thoughts, it was lucky he hadn't followed her from the dance floor.

"May I say what a lovely dress you're wearing tonight," Balin said.

"Thank you." Idunn ran one hand along the folds of her velvet skirt. "It was a gift from Lady Dís."

"Was it now?" Balin said. "She certainly knows what suits a young woman best."

She smiled at him again before she glanced at Thorin. Fire sparked in her eyes but he couldn't read what it meant. She dropped her gaze to his shoulders and her expression changed to one of dismay as she took in his tunic. She didn't seem to be any more thrilled to be in his colors than he was to have her in them. At least she seemed not to have been aware of Dís's ruse. All the more reason to scold his sister for it later.

Idunn turned back to Balin. "Will you be playing for us tonight?"

"Perhaps," he said with a rolling laugh, "perhaps. What do you say, Brother, should we show these young lads how its done?"

Dwalin bobbed a shoulder. "I haven't had nearly enough ale for that."

"Then drink up." Balin laughed again as Dwalin followed orders and downed his ale. "Now, Miss Idunn, have you spent much time in the forges lately?"

"No, I've received no more commands of late."

"I said you were free to use my forge as you wished," Thorin said.

She gave a stiff nod. "So you did, sire."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what, sire?"

"That," he said, splaying an open hand in front of her, "call me 'sire'."

"Forgive me, King Thorin."

 _Women_. "'Thorin' would do just fine."

She briefly bowed her head, but the saucy gaze she flashed him said she wasn't about to do as he asked. Why would she when he had been idiot enough to laugh in her face about how she disliked being told what to do? No sense in her changing things now.

"I've seen the sword you made for Thorin," Balin said. "It's finer than many a sword churned out by our blacksmiths. I cannot think you'd be lacking for work if you wanted it."

"She has no wish to go into business, Balin," Thorin said.

"Do I not?" Idunn asked him in her usual pert tone. "You yourself said I shouldn't have given up my father's business."

"Then you do wish it?"

"I don't know. I hardly think there would be much call for it now in the Hills."

"Who said anything about the Iron Hills?" he asked.

"Where else am I to go?"

He had not considered that she still wanted to return to the Iron Hills. Of course she would return; after her tenure as Astrid's companion ended with the spring wedding she would be free to do as she chose. Clearly she intended to leave Erebor as soon as she could.

"You may do as you please," he said, "you are of age."

Perhaps his tone had too much acid in it, for Idunn winced at the remark. "Excuse me," she said to Balin; Thorin she ignored entirely. Her skirts brushed against him as she stepped away, and his palm opened involuntarily to feel the softness of them as she passed. Then she was gone, lost in the crowd.

Balin gave Thorin an arch look.

"What?" he growled.

Balin silently laughed at him. "I once thought the most foolhardy thing you'd ever done was taunt a dragon." He patted Thorin on the shoulder. "You've proven me wrong." With that, Balin trundled off, ale in hand.

Thorin stared at the dancers, unseeing. Dwarves nodded and bowed as they moved past, but he couldn't be bothered to speak to them. He stood as stone until Fíli and Astrid, out of breath from so much dancing, joined him.

"Do not tell me you are going to simply stand and watch the festivities, Uncle." Fíli grinned as he leaned past Thorin to grab a mug of ale. "Try to enjoy yourself, won't you?"

"You should be more concerned about your own enjoyment than mine."

"It's no concern," Fíli said as he turned a tender look on Astrid. She beamed at him in return. "I couldn't be happier."

It was certainly true. Thorin had never seen him in such high spirits, and he had witnessed a number of the lad's revelries. More than this, though, Fíli had never looked so content before. He gazed on Astrid as though he could ask for no more in life.

Suddenly Thorin wished to be anywhere else but witnessing such heartfelt looks between the two.

A few soldiers stopped to clap Fíli on the back and offer their congratulations as they passed. "This one," one of them said as he grinned at him, "nothing gets by him, am I right?"

"I've never seen anything like it, let me tell you," another said. "Broken bones only made him _more_ angry."

They all laughed before the first said, "He's as good as Captain Dwalin, orcs'll be running at the very mention of his name."

Fíli received their praise with smiles and nods before the soldiers charged away again. When he glanced at Thorin there was something in his eyes - Thorin wouldn't go so far as to call it spite, but certainly pride. He had gone against Thorin's wishes and come out the victor. It was plain the soldiers saw him as one, which is exactly what Fíli had wanted. Why shouldn't he be proud?

"Go," Thorin said to them with a small smile. "Enjoy your night."

They nodded and smiled at him before the two took their places again among the dancers. Thorin strode away and walked through the crowd as though he had some purpose in mind when all he really wanted was to drown himself in his mug of ale. He spotted an unoccupied bench on the far wall, and he made for that. His duties to the celebration aside, his leg needed a moment's rest.

He sat down and stretched his leg as much as he might, given the crowd and the curious eyes. As he glanced around him, he realized Idunn stood not far away, speaking with Kíli. He was about to leave again when Dís dropped onto the bench beside him.

"It is traditional to smile now and then at such an event, Thorin," she said as she nudged her shoulder against his. "I won't tell you to enjoy yourself, for I'm expecting no miracles, but a hint of a smile would be enough."

"Why do you tease me when I'm already in a sour mood?"

"Why are you in a sour mood in the middle of a celebration of love?"

"Why did you dress Idunn as my wife?"

Her eyes darted to Idunn. "Did I?"

"You did."

"Perhaps I didn't. Perhaps the color suits her. Perhaps - "

"Stop saying 'perhaps'."

Dís cast an indulgent smile on him. " _Maybe_ it is because I am no fool, Thorin."

He shifted on the bench. "I don't know what you mean."

She patted him on the knee. "You will. I just hope you do before it's too late." With that, she got up and walked away, leaving him to stew.

* * *

"And that is why I never leave home without a frying pan." Kíli and the soldiers he regaled broke into laughter at the conclusion of his little joke. Idunn had stood by while they took turns telling ridiculous stories of valor and hardships, each trying to best the other. To hear them tell it, every kill was a miraculous feat, every escape nothing short of impossible.

"Did I ever tell you of the time I shot two orcs with one arrow?" one of the soldiers asked. The others groaned as though well versed in the story.

"We've all heard that one," Kíli said with a laugh. He glanced at Idunn and his expression changed to one of apology. "Although I think we're boring our audience."

"Not at all," she said truly, "I am just uncomfortable from standing so long." The celebration had been going on for hours and showed no signs of slowing.

"There's a seat next to Uncle," Kíli said, directing her attention behind her. "Why don't you rest a while?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Thorin, who looked up at just that moment. His glance pierced her like a physical thing. She spun back around and said, "I think I'll stand."

There was a moment of awkward silence, if it can be called silence in a room full of constant noise, before one of the soldiers said, "What about the time I got my sword stuck in an orc's chest? We had to split him to retrieve it."

"That's hardly a tale fit for a lady's ears." Thorin had suddenly joined them and stood at Idunn's side, close enough that his arm jostled against hers. Her heart raced at his sudden nearness, even if it was still bruised from his earlier indifference.

The soldier looked appropriately chastened. "Sorry, Miss."

"You're just lucky your sword didn't snap when put to the test," she said.

The soldier's eyebrows pulled together as he sorted this out. "Quite lucky, Miss."

"You didn't know?" Thorin said. "You're speaking with a woman who never lets you forget a thing you say."

"It was rather memorable," she said.

"I see," the soldier said, although it was clear he didn't. He seemed cowed by Thorin's presence, and his former levity was gone. "I think I'd best refill my ale." He walked away into the crowd, taking the other soldiers with him. His stride was awkward and halting, and Idunn realized he had an injury even worse than Thorin's from some unknown calamity.

"Poor bastard," Thorin muttered after him.

"How so?" she asked.

"A mangled leg is a hard burden to bear."

"So?"

He turned his steely gaze from the soldier to her. "Do you think it will be easy for him? He has many years yet to endure. He is young enough to mind not having a wife."

"Why should he not have a wife?" she asked. Somewhere in the noise of the crowd she heard Kíli clear his throat.

"No one wants to be loved out of pity."

"Why should it be for pity? He seems kind enough, and handsome, too."

"Handsome face or no, what woman would want a dwarf who can no longer go into battle?" Thorin asked, his voice laced with scorn. "Or a dwarf who can no longer fight to protect his family? Who wants someone whose honor is lost?"

"His honor isn't lost. He wears his honor every day, in his very limp. His injury proves his honor tenfold. What woman _wouldn't_ want such a proud, brave dwarf for a husband? If he can't see that, then that's the real pity."

She thought sure Thorin would argue the point further, but he only stared back at her in stony silence.

"I think I, too, will refill my ale." Kíli raised his not-quite-full mug and darted into the crowd.

Why could she not have kept quiet? All her aunt's lessons on propriety and prudence seemed to have slipped through her fingers. Thorin's silence was worse than a rebuke, for she knew not what to say in return. She could apologize, but she had said nothing that warranted such a thing. She could take her words back, but he had already heard them. No, there was only one thing for her to do.

"Goodnight," she said, and left the hall.


	15. Chapter 15

Fíli stood with his brother before Thorin, waiting, as it seemed, for their doom. He had known this day would come, that Thorin was unlikely to continue on pretending they hadn't blatantly disobeyed him and vowed to continue doing so. They had been nearly a month at their awkward impasse, but it seemed it had come to an end. It was only fitting Thorin let them have the celebration first, a last hurrah before he doled out punishments.

Thorin got up from where he sat. He did not pace as he might have done in their youth, but standing was an improvement from sitting mildly in his armchair. Fíli had grown quite tired of stoic lectures delivered from his chair, and privately thought Uncle far too comfortable in it.

"About the orc raids," Thorin said with an ominous note. "Can you forgive me my stubborn refusal to see past my own failures?"

Fíli cast a nervous glance at Kíli and saw only confusion in return. This wasn't what either of them had expected. Rage, perhaps. Punishments, most likely. An apology? Never.

"I don't need to remind you what happened when we took back the Mountain," Thorin said with a heavy breath. "Not just your injuries, but my failures as well. My faults haven't been easily concealed, not then, and not now. When I walk through the halls our people see a broken dwarf, not just in body but in his soul."

He paused and seemed to summon the right words to go on. "I broke my word to those who would be our allies. I broke trust with my closest friends. I broke the confidence of my dearest kin. That's not easily forgotten."

"Uncle," Fíli began, to say what, he didn't even know, but Thorin raised a hand.

"Let me speak. I may not feel so forthcoming again for long years." He gave a grim smile. "I thought by protecting myself from prying eyes and protecting you from danger, I could somehow undo all memory of my own mistakes. I was wrong."

The number of times Thorin had ever said he was wrong in Fíli's presence were so few, at first he thought he had misheard.

"You have proven yourselves time and again true Sons of Durin. You are right to join Dwalin's company. The dwarves of Erebor need to see their princes fight for them. They need to know they can trust you and follow you."

"They follow you, Uncle," Fíli said, not liking the way he'd casually left himself out as though he were no longer ruler of Erebor. "You are still our king."

"I may lead them, but my days of bringing home trophies of war are long past. They look to the future." He stepped forward and clasped them each on a shoulder. "And so must I. I couldn't be prouder of you, my sister-sons."

This outpouring of praise and affection rang in Fíli's ears and echoed in his heart. He knew Thorin loved them, but it was a love that largely went unspoken. It was proven in actions, not words. To hear him give voice to that bond buoyed Fíli in a way nothing else ever could.

"Your people look to you," Thorin said, "and I know you will guide and protect them. If threat should reach the Mountain, they will gladly follow you into battle."

Kíli stood the taller and said, "I feel as though I could slay a hundred orcs in one go."

"Let's hope it does not come to that."

* * *

Idunn lay in bed long into the morning, little disposed to face the day in such a bleak mood. Her head throbbed from the ale she'd had the night before and the noise of the celebration. Worse, snippets of conversation buzzed in her mind, tormenting her with her own words. She had defended a wounded warrior to Thorin, emphatically declaring the dwarf worthy of love and a wife and - oh, it was awful. Thorin was no fool. He would have seen through her immediately.

He was not the only one to have seen through her. She'd given little thought to the dress Dís had chosen for her until she saw Thorin and realized how perfectly they matched. She could hardly think it an innocent mistake, but neither could she think Dís capable of such a cruel trick as to publicly call her out on her feelings. And yet there she'd stood, matching Thorin as though one either begging for his notice, or presumptuous enough to think she already had it.

Eventually she made a simple breakfast in her chambers and had just settled down to buttered bread with jam when Astrid burst into her rooms. "Good, you're up. Oh, you look awful. No! Not awful, just...tired. Are you all right?"

"Too much ale," she said. It was the truth, if only part of it. The rest didn't bear thinking of.

"Drink your tea, that will help." Astrid flounced onto the chair next to her and flashed a happy grin. "Do you think you're up for a walk?"

"A walk?" Idunn repeated, stalling for time as she chewed her toast. She hardly felt like she was up for as much as standing, but she couldn't hide away all day.

"We thought to go to the waterfall again. Fíli said the wildflowers are all in bloom, and it's pleasant enough in the late summer sunshine. Oh, do say you will."

Idunn could do nothing else even had she wanted to, Astrid's excitement would have banished all other thoughts. With a little helpful prodding, she was soon ready for their excursion to the waterfall. They met Fíli and Kíli in Lady Dís's sitting room.

"I'm surprised you're able to stand after all the ale you had last night," she said to Kíli.

"I'm affronted, madam," he said with a stiff bow. "You doubt my ability to drink?"

"Never do that," Fíli said as he took Astrid's hand and kissed her fingertips. "His ability to drink cannot be measured."

"You have my apologies," she said with a laugh.

"In truth," Kíli said, "I'd just as soon crawl into my bed and stay there a week as go to the waterfall today, but I've been informed I've shirked my duties long enough."

"What he means is, he's absolutely delighted to join us at the waterfall," Fíli said.

They had not walked far down the corridor before they met Thorin coming the opposite direction. When he took them in his eyes lingered on Idunn, and she rather wished she'd stayed in her chambers after all.

"Where are you off to this morning?" he asked.

"The waterfall," Fíli said. "Fresh air will do us all good."

Thorin nodded and seemed to consider this. "I'll join you."

"Out to the - " Kíli's question was cut off by a sharp look from Thorin.

Fíli gave him an encouraging smile. "We'll be glad to have you, Uncle."

So they set off once more with Thorin among them. If the guards at the main gate were surprised to see their king, they didn't show it. They looked as impassive as ever, although Idunn guessed they would have much to say privately when the party had moved on.

The path from the main road to the river was a well-worn track, and, aside from his usual hitching stride, Thorin appeared to have no trouble with it. As soon as they stepped out into the open air he paused to take in the view, but his eyes clouded over as though with a vision of some other time.

"Much has changed, hasn't it, Uncle?" Kíli said.

"Much indeed." He winced when he saw the meadows now teeming with green shoots, but his discomfort was gone again in a moment. As Idunn looked closer, she realized the wildflowers grew through a dust of charred soil. Remnants of the dragon's destruction, she guessed. Thorin had twice seen it cause that destruction first-hand. No wonder he did not often come out here.

They walked on, slower now in the dirt road than the stone corridors of Erebor, but steadily enough. Thorin looked on everything around him as one new-born. Green growing things were determined to overtake even the most stubborn fall of rock, poking and prodding through the unlikeliest places, and he seemed to notice it all.

They followed the curving slope of the path as it meandered through a stand of trees down to where the river ran softly, gathering up its strength before it coursed over the falls. Fíli and Astrid walked hand in hand several paces behind the others, lost in their own world, while Kíli glanced around with an odd look on his face as though searching for something.

"You left the celebration early last night," Thorin said at Idunn's side.

"I'd had too much ale," she said, continuing her small lie.

"You seemed quite lucid when last we spoke."

It had been too much to hope he would have forgotten that. She quickened her pace to walk around a bend of rockfall and stopped short. Behind her she heard Kíli say, "Do you smell it?" at the same time she saw the Men. Their bodies were strewn about near the riverside, their tunics dark with blood. She stood frozen in place as she stared at their lifeless forms. Three Men lay broken in the grass, cut down by vicious strokes. One of them suddenly choked and sputtered.

"Idunn!" Thorin shouted, but she was already running to the Man's side. "Idunn, no!"

Thorin's shouts for her seemed a lifetime away as she knelt in the grass beside the wounded Man. He was young, barely full-grown. He had been stabbed several times and slashed in the face, but yet he lived. His eyes went wild when she approached and he thrashed as though he could flee.

"Peace," she whispered to him, "peace, you are safe." He was not, and would never be again, but the lies flowed from her mouth too easily.

He shook his head and his throat worked as he tried to speak. Behind her the others were still shouting but even Thorin's words were lost in the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. So much blood. The crisp smell of it was thick in the air. She ran her hands lightly over the boy's sodden tunic as though she could assess his injuries. There was nothing for her to do even had she known what might help.

"Idunn, leave him now!" Thorin shouted.

The boy's eyes went wide, fixed on something in the distance, and he thrashed harder. Fresh blood spilled from his mouth as he tried to speak. Something moved across the river. She looked up to see orcs coming out of the shadows of the trees and into the sunlight. A bright sliver of fear cut through her heart at the sight of the creatures' gray skin, sharp teeth, and yellow eyes. The orcs ran through the knee-deep river, headed straight to where she knelt.

Kíli was suddenly at her side and threw an arm around her waist, lifting her from the boy as though he would carry her away.

"Run," he shouted into her ear, "run!" He tossed her to the ground behind him and the glint of steel in the dirt caught her eye. She grabbed the sword of Men and then ran to where Thorin and Fíli stood with their swords drawn shielding Astrid. Kíli was fast behind her, but so were the orcs.

At least a dozen orcs came on, swords and cudgels raised. There was no time now for escape. Idunn gripped her sword tighter as the orcs fanned out to circle their prey. The moment stopped her breath like she was trapped in a vivid, awful painting. Then they all rushed at once. Fíli dropped the first orc to reach him, but a second took advantage of the distraction to slip past him.

The orc came at Idunn in loping strides, showing its teeth in mockery of a grin. She parried its strikes once, twice, before thrusting her sword into his chest. It howled, but her effort wasn't nearly enough and the orc stumbled back with her sword stuck between its ribs. Outrage flashed in its eyes as it lunged at her again, but now she was unarmed. Astrid screamed as she leaped forward to knock the blow aside with her dagger. Seeing her chance, Idunn shoved against her sword with all her might until she fell on top of the orc with a crack of its ribs. The creature did not rise again.

Over the clashing of swords came the rasping voice of another orc speaking in the common tongue behind her. "The King Under the Mountain has come out at last. What a pretty prize." She turned to see Thorin, his injured leg bent beneath him as he fended off the orc that leered over him. Idunn pulled her sword from the dead orc's chest and swept it in a great arc to dash the other off Thorin. Her stroke did little damage to the creature's shoulder, but as the orc spun to ready itself she was able to step between it and Thorin.

The orc snapped its jaws at her, its attention now focused solely on her. Its putrid grey flesh and hollow eyes made even its gaze terrible. "Oh, yes? Come to save your king?" Before she could react, it swung its cudgel with a blow to her side that left her sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. "That was just a taste. I'll eat you so slowly, you'll beg for death!"

She shifted to try to ready her sword, to try to do anything at all, but before she could even prepare for the orc's coming strike, its head was sliced clean off its neck. Its body fell in a heap at Thorin's feet.

He stared at her and for a moment it was as though he didn't know her, he looked so wild. "What were you thinking?" he shouted.

Idunn's body still coursed with fear and rage, and her breath came in ragged gasps made more difficult by the pain in her side. She glanced around, but the rest of the orcs were dead. Fíli had his arms around Astrid, and Kíli stood by with a grim expression.

"Do you have any explanation for yourself?" Thorin's voice was harsh in her ears.

"I don't understand..." she said dumbly from where she had fallen on the ground.

"I told you to come back and you refused." Thorin's eyes still had the fire they'd borne when he killed the orc, and it cowed her.

"I wanted to help the boy."

"By putting your life at risk?" It seemed she had never heard anything so loud and terrible as his rage.

"Thorin," Kíli said softly as he helped Idunn to her feet. "Don't."

He shoved Kíli out of the way as he stepped closer to her, his eyes fixed hard on Idunn. "What were you thinking?" he shouted again.

As her confusion subsided, his anger began to bring out her own. "Was I to leave them for dead?"

"Yes, if it meant your life. You could have been killed."

"So could you!"

"I am not some lamed old dwarf who needs to be rescued by a maiden who can't even use a sword."

She took a step towards him, willing him understand. "Don't you know I would have fought to protect you whether you were injured or not?"

"Get out of my sight!"

She recoiled at the hatred in his eyes and backed away from him. Kíli stepped forward to take her elbow but Thorin raised a hand. "You stay with me. Fíli will take the women back to their rooms." Each word was a command. He turned to Fíli, who watched him with a detached look as though seeing something else. "Send Dwalin and a contingent of soldiers back here. We'll need to send messengers to Dale."

Fíli nodded and gestured for Idunn to join him. Astrid stood with her body curled against his chest, her face a white mask of fear. As they started towards the gates, Idunn risked a glance back at Thorin. The rage in his eyes was like a shard of ice that cut straight into her heart.

* * *

As soon as Idunn, Fíli, and Astrid were out of view, Thorin took his first deep breath since the skirmish had begun. They would be in sight of the gates in another minute, and Fíli would raise the warriors in but a few more. Though by now he knew well how much could happen in those minutes, he had to consider them safer nearer to Erebor than where he stood.

He shuffled among the orc corpses, making sure every last one of them were dead. One he nudged with his boot. "Look at this," he said to Kíli. A dainty steel and silver dagger was lodged in the creature's ribcage. "Fíli's love can fight."

"So can yours."

Thorin met his nephew's eyes only a moment before he looked away again. "You assume too much."

"So do you."

It felt an age before Dwalin and his soldiers arrived even though it must have been less than half an hour. "This was a pretty pleasure walk," Dwalin said as he glanced over the grisly orc corpses.

"Send a few soldiers to the water's edge," Thorin told him. "There's a boy who may yet be alive." Some of the thirty warriors veered off down the path towards the river.

"This is clean work," Dwalin said as he knocked an orc head with the toe of his boot. "Yours?"

"Aye."

When Dwalin grinned it was with the old mix of ferocity and pleasure that used to drive them forward in battle together. "I knew you still had it in you."

"Was there ever any doubt?" It was the response Thorin would have given of old, before he had given Dwalin ample reasons to doubt him. Those were yet more memories he hated to relive, but Dwalin did not now seem to be thinking of them.

He shook his head. "I didn't doubt you, but I dare say you did."

Thorin couldn't deny it. In truth, he hadn't known what he was yet capable of, and he had let those doubts eat away at him. That concern, at least, had been proven wrong. He was not what he once was, but he still had enough left in him to kill a few orcs.

"How's your leg?"

"On fire," Thorin said. "But I'm still standing."

Dwalin flashed his terrible grin again. "That you are."

Thorin glanced around at the disgusting, lifeless bodies on the ground. "Only starvation could have driven so few orcs to attack so close to our gates in broad daylight," he said. "We'll need to increase our patrols, day and night. Let's wipe out the last remnants of this scourge."

Dwalin nodded, and the way he looked at Thorin was so like the old days he could almost believe he was still that dwarf. Maybe somewhere deep inside he still was.

"The Men were young hunters," one of the warriors said as he came back over the rise from the water. "They had a fresh buck with them."

"The survivor?" Thorin asked.

The warrior shook his head. "They've all passed on."

It was no more than he expected. The orcs had probably abandoned the Men when they heard Thorin and the others coming. They didn't often leave a kill half-finished. "Collect the dead and their belongings. Take them to Dale with a full report, and give Bard our sympathies."

Dwalin nodded and Thorin started to head towards Erebor but turned back. "And tell him to expect me tomorrow."

"I'll do it. Oh, and Thorin - why don't you take your trophy with you?"

He looked down at the orc head he had severed from its body. It was gruesome and filthy, but Dwalin was right, he had earned it. He grabbed the head by its hair.

Kíli fell into step beside Thorin as he picked his slow trail back to the front gates. The lad was silent in the way of someone who has too much to say rather than too little.

"Yes?" Thorin finally said when he could bear the heavy quiet no longer.

"You owe Idunn an apology."

"I don't." His stomach twisted at the lie as he remembered her ashen face lined with shock, the way she had shrunk away from him like he were a monster. He had taken a moment designed for relieved embraces and gentle words and instead gave way to all his worst impulses. Guilt and shame churned through him for his own vile behavior.

"You raged at her even worse than you did at Fíli and I when you learned we were going on orc raids. Do you want to think about why that is?"

No, he didn't. He knew why.

When they came in sight of the main gate, Thorin raised the orc head for all the guards to see. The commotion they caused in cheering him could have roused a dragon from its sleep in the Grey Mountains. One of the guards at the gate tossed him a pike, so Thorin impaled the head and stood it up as a token. He would not leave such a gruesome sight before the gates of the Lonely Mountain for long, but he would accept a moment of earned glory.

He had not entered his halls to such applause since the Ered Luin. Every dwarf on the gate took a turn to congratulate him on his kill, and several more who had been nowhere near came closer to hear the news. Some good had come of this disaster, then. All would know Erebor's king still had fight in him. Perhaps none needed to hear it more than he, himself.

When they finally took their leave of the soldiers, Kíli left him in the Main Hall to go his own pace. Thorin took the back corridors, his mind filled with all the turmoil of the last hour. Kíli's claim that he should apologize to Idunn wore on him. He had been too harsh with her, too violent in his shock over what she had done. Nothing he yelled at her in anger or might say in soft apology could undo the fact that she had put herself between him and an orc.

Yes, she had ignored him and stayed with the injured boy, but what dwarf-maid in a hundred would show so much courage? When that orc had stood over her, menacing her with threats, Thorin had wanted to shred the flesh from its bones. Beheading it hadn't done nearly the damage he could have inflicted in that moment. His chest burned like molten metal as he thought of all that might have happened to her out there.

He was such a fool. He had ignored it, tried to run from it, but the truth had finally caught hold of him and stopped him dead in his tracks. He loved Idunn. Even the night before, he had stubbornly tried to deny it. He had thought he'd been angry with Dís for dressing her in his colors, when the truth was, seeing her that way made him realize how much he _wanted_ her in his colors. It had been foolish to think he could want anything but her.

He knew what he needed to do. With one objective in mind, he turned his steps to take him to his forges.


	16. Chapter 16

Fíli held Astrid in his arms, her face pressed tight against his chest. After the orc skirmish he had taken her to her rooms, where she had crumpled onto the settee. As the last of her newfound battle rage drained out of her, only fear was left to fill the void. She had cried a little, and her hands shook as she hid her face from him. He wished he could soothe away her fears but he knew it was never so easy.

"You are safe, my love," he said as he stroked her hair and pressed kisses to the top of her head. "Nothing can harm you here."

"I can't stop thinking about them," she said softly. "How do you go into battle again and again against those foul things?"

"It changes you," he said, "as you do it more. You become steeled against them."

"Does it no longer bother you to fight them so?"

"It bothered me today." The small skirmishes he'd been on of late had given him little to fear. Even when he'd been injured he hadn't truly feared the orcs, just his own inadequacies. Today though - he would rather take on an army of the creatures alone than fight another battle with Astrid so near to danger. " _You_ were never supposed to be so close to such horrors. Not because you cannot, but because I would protect you from it if I can. And look, I have failed you before we are even wed."

"That was not your fault," she said, her voice rising in defense of him.

"Nor was any of it yours." He pulled back to cup her face in his hands. He gazed into her dark blue eyes, grateful for the woman he saw there. "I am proud of you."

She exhaled a short laugh. "Of me?"

"You were afraid and yet you fought. You didn't run. You held your ground."

She gave a thin smile at this praise. He guessed that when the shock had worn completely away, she, too, would find a source of pride in her actions. While now she could think only of her revulsion at coming face to face with orcs, in time she would hold her head the higher for her bravery.

His eyes caught a greasy black splatter across her temple and his stomach turned at the reminder of just how close she had been to the filthy creatures. He rubbed her skin lightly with his thumb until the last traces of orc blood were gone.

"What is it?" She must have guessed what he'd seen, because her face dissolved into fear and disgust again. "Is it gone?" she asked as she rubbed at her face. "Is it gone?"

"Shh, there's no more." He pulled her back into his arms to soothe her again. "I'll have a maid draw you a bath."

She held onto him tighter. "Don't leave me yet."

"I'm not going anywhere." He kissed her hair again, and vowed never to give orcs another chance to come near her, whatever it cost.

* * *

Idunn sat on the floor of her bedroom wearing only her shift. Her dress had been stained with black orc blood, and she had stripped it off the moment she'd shut herself in her rooms. Her side was bruised from the blow she'd taken, but it was a dull ache she could ignore. Horror settled over her as everything that had just happened played a grotesque dance in her mind.

She had killed an orc. It was a grim victory of which she was both disgusted and proud. Yet even that small triumph couldn't keep the vision of the other orc from her mind's eye. The way it had leered and gnashed, and threatened a torment that might never touch her but would follow her all the same. _You'll beg for death._ And beyond it all was Thorin, shouting at her afterward.

She had never seen anyone as angry as Thorin had been with her at the riverside. He seemed to have a genuine hatred for her, as if he were more angry with her than the orcs they had fought. Of course, she understood why. She had defended him, and he loathed her for thinking him weak. Even knowing that, she would do it again. How could she not? She loved him.

And that was the worst of all. She loved Thorin, and he had shouted at her to leave him. She had as good as declared herself to him in word and deed, and he could not make it any clearer that he didn't want her. Whatever small hope she had been foolish enough to entertain had disappeared into dust.

Eventually she climbed into bed. Her mind was too frantic yet for sleep, her body too filled with fear and rage to rest, but she remained tucked away through luncheon. When at last she got up, she washed and put on a fresh dress, but couldn't bring herself to knock on Astrid's door. She knew without having to check that Fíli would be with her, and despite the impropriety, he would be the better comfort. Idunn could comfort no one just now.

It was nearing suppertime when a knock came at her door. Her heart rose at the sound, but she tamped it down again. When had Thorin ever sought her out?

She opened the door to find Kíli in the hallway. He looked grim but well and whole.

"How are you?" he asked. He watched her as though she were made of glass and likely to fall apart at the softest sound.

"I've been better," she said as she waved him inside. "Did the boy survive?"

"No, I'm sorry." Kíli looked more grave and solemn than Idunn had ever seen him. She wished now there had never been a need, that he could always be the light, fun-loving version of Kíli she had known before. Then she remembered he had seen far worse than a mere dozen orcs, and it hadn't darkened his mood. His somber demeanor was for her loss of innocence, she realized, and not his own. "I'm sure Mother would have come to you and Astrid, but she's been entertaining guests this afternoon and I didn't know if I should interrupt. I don't know where Thorin is."

Idunn shook her head as though it were no matter, even though everything inside her wanted to know where he was. "Were you injured at all?"

"No, but I saw the hit you took. Are you sure you don't need to visit the healers?"

"I'm just a little bruised." She hadn't even been wearing leather mail - the orc had only been toying with her to get her out of the way, or it could have killed her on the spot. It was only luck that kept her alive. That, and the orc had foolishly underestimated Thorin.

Kíli's mouth twisted into a reluctant sort of smile. "You're tougher than I took you for, Idunn of the Iron Hills."

She smiled but could find little joy in the compliment when he knew nothing of how her heart ached for an entirely different reason. "Is Fíli still with Astrid?"

"He hasn't yet left her side. I'm afraid we're falling down on our chaperone duties."

"Maybe we should check on them."

"Wouldn't hurt," he said with a wink.

Even as they spoke the idea, muffled voices came from behind the door that joined her room to Astrid's. An excited sort of scream sounded, followed by giddy, high-pitched laughter. Idunn froze, her spirits sinking even lower as she recognized the sound.

The door burst open to reveal Aunt Groa. "Are these your rooms, too, dear?" she asked over her shoulder before glancing around. Then she caught sight of Idunn. "Oh. I didn't expect to see you here."

Just where she expected her to be, Idunn couldn't guess.

"Mother," Astrid called from her chambers, "give Idunn some peace, it's been a trying day."

"Trying? What could be trying about living in Erebor? _I'm_ the one who just completed a long journey."

Uncle Destin poked his head through the doorframe. "Idunn, is that you?" He stepped into her rooms, thoughtlessly pushing Groa inside as well. "I hope you're well."

"Indeed." She knew without having to consult Astrid that their confrontation with orcs was not to be repeated to them. Instead, she gestured towards her guest. "Prince Kíli, may I introduce my Uncle Destin and Aunt Groa."

Aunt and Uncle paused a moment and visibly seemed to reorient themselves. They went from unapologetic intrusion to affected humility in the space of seconds. Both lavished greetings on the prince, who took their alteration in stride.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said with a deep bow.

"We've just met the Crown Prince," Aunt said.

"Have you now?" Kíli managed to sound thoroughly impressed by the feat.

Groa eyed him with some satisfaction, apparently pleased with his manners. "The Lady Dís has invited us to dine with you, of course."

"Of course."

They walked as one group to the larger dining hall the royal family sometimes used, Groa's empty chatter to Fíli and Kíli filling the corridor as they went. Idunn sidled up next to Astrid and gave her hand a squeeze. "All right?" she whispered.

Astrid gave a stout nod. "You?"

Idunn nodded in return, although she guessed they were both lying to shore up the other. Being set upon by orcs wasn't something one forgot in an afternoon.

Thorin and Dís were waiting in the dining room. Groa went right up to Dís and greeted her as an old friend while the others found their places around the table. Idunn took her seat at Thorin's right, but kept her eyes far from his for fear of seeing that same loathing he had shown at the river.

"Are you well, Idunn?" he asked.

"Quite well, sire." He seemed to be waiting for a further update, but she could not speak of any of the day's events in front of her aunt and uncle, and she certainly couldn't speak of everything that pressed on her heart.

"You acted admirably today," he said.

Shocked at such a turn around, she met his gaze. The softness she found in his eyes seemed to sink right through her. She had to glance away again before one kind look could rekindle all her foolish hopes.

"Thorin," Dís said, "may I present Astrid's parents, Destin and Groa."

Thorin nodded but seemed unmoved by the rich compliments they saw fit to shower on him in greeting.

"We weren't expecting guests," he said. It was his way of informing them they should have given notice of their intentions. Idunn could scarcely believe they had taken it into their heads to visit the royal house without an express invitation, but here they were and so it must be.

"It isn't entirely proper to arrive unannounced," Uncle Destin said, "but given the circumstances we saw no harm."

"We thought to write, King Thorin," Aunt Groa said, "but that would have taken weeks to get a reply back, and I knew how very desperately my Astrid would be missing me."

Idunn saw Fíli and Astrid exchange a look. The only person who believed her story was Groa. Astrid loved her mother deeply but Heidrun was the daughter unable to bear being without Groa. Idunn didn't like to imagine how Heidrun must have railed against Groa's departure, and her reason for it.

"Had we known," Dís said, "we could have altered the timing of Fíli and Astrid's betrothal celebration so that you could be included. It's such a shame you missed it by only a day."

Groa seemed to feel the disappointment but not the chastisement for her thoughtlessness that Lady Dís surely intended. "It is a blow, to be sure, but we will be amply ready for the wedding. _That_ is sure to be an even more lavish affair."

"How was your journey?" Fíli asked before Groa could say anything more of her lavish expectations for the wedding.

"Oh," Groa said, "it was unpleasant. Did you know there is an orc head outside the front gates? I can't think who would have done it, but it was most unwelcoming."

"I did it," Thorin said, "and it's not meant to be a welcome."

"Well..." Groa seemed to debate the propriety of the king's actions. Her own muted sense of reverence must have prevented her remarks, for she addressed herself to Fíli again. "But you know, as to the journey, I disliked all the walking."

"Indeed," Thorin muttered. There were no riders among dwarves.

"I was in a right state sleeping on the ground, too, but luckily one of my traveling companions offered me an extra blanket of hers, and that soothed some of my aches." Groa chewed a moment. "Though not many. She might have offered me the thicker blanket, but she kept that for herself, and you know she's several decades younger than I."

"It is not always safe for strangers to be abroad in the wilds between Erebor and the Iron Hills," Thorin said.

"We were with a large caravan, King Thorin," Destin said, "and in no danger."

"And we cannot rightly be considered strangers when our children are to be married, you see?" Groa said to Lady Dís.

"We have had some time to get to know one another already this afternoon." Dís's comment was tepid at best, and Idunn wished for Astrid's sake that Groa had not said anything that might endanger the betrothal. As it was, she wasn't entirely sure her aunt could get through the _dinner_ without saying anything that might endanger the betrothal.

Idunn had no appetite, and moved the food on her plate around without enthusiasm. Thorin's eyes seemed always upon her. She wished, tonight of all nights, that they might have found an alternative seating arrangement. Though in truth, she would have had to be in a different room altogether to avoid his gaze, it pierced her so.

"How is little Brunin?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, he's the most darling boy, Astrid," Groa said to her across the table, "he's the sweetest thing you ever saw. I heartily wish we could have brought Heidrun and Bruni, and the baby as well, but Bruni thought perhaps we'd better not, so they stayed behind. They'll visit soon enough."

Dís's gaze flickered to Thorin. She gave away nothing in the glance, but Idunn caught the silent message.

"Aunt, perhaps Heidrun should wait for an invitation from the royal house," she said.

"Oh, tush," Groa said, "they have it, do they not?" She smiled around the table as though expecting a chorus of confirmations. When they didn't come, she deflated just a little. "At any rate, the baby really shouldn't travel yet."

After a moment of silence, Groa said, "I look forward to sleeping in a proper bed tonight."

"Balin has found you quarters on the second residential level," Dís said. "If I'd had a little more notice, I might have secured you something closer."

"Now, don't trouble yourself, my lady, Idunn's rooms will do all right for us."

Idunn's gaze snapped to her aunt. "My rooms?"

"You can't ask for Idunn's rooms, Mother," Astrid said.

"She can exchange for those other rooms just as well as we can," Groa said. "Your mother takes precedence over your cousin."

"Idunn isn't changing rooms." Thorin's voice was quiet but no less commanding. Idunn was grateful to have him on her side even if it should shame Aunt Groa, were such a thing possible.

"As you like," Groa said with a little nod of deference to Thorin. "But when she leaves, those rooms will be available for us, won't they?"

"What do you mean, 'When she leaves'?" Thorin asked.

"Well," here Groa turned to Lady Dís as though Thorin had little to do with it and Idunn nothing at all, "now that Heidrun's safely delivered I thought, why not come be Astrid's companion in Erebor? Idunn can return to the Hills and help Heidrun and the baby in all the little ways I have been."

Idunn suddenly seemed rooted to her chair. She knew now how Astrid must have felt that day when the letter from Erebor arrived, to have all her power taken from her in one fell swoop. Aunt and Uncle had devised plans for her without her knowledge or consent, and announced them to her friends as foregone conclusions.

"Mother - " Astrid began, but she was cut off by Thorin.

"Idunn will not have such decisions made by anyone but herself. She will go only if she wishes it."

His words sounded nice, but they were distant. There was no heart to them to give further rise to her insane hopes. He was simply railing against the transfer of Idunn's companionship from one cousin to the other without his express permission.

"Why would she not wish it?" Groa asked, as though Idunn should be at one of her daughters' disposal at all times. "Why would she refuse?"

"It should be Idunn's choice to go or stay," Dís said gently.

All eyes were fixed on Idunn. She was given an impossible choice. In either case she should be miserable, it was just a matter of where and how thoroughly.

"I want to leave." Saying the words seemed to pull the air from the room. In the next moment she wanted to take them back, but to what end?

"As I said," Groa said with a nod. "We've arranged for you to take the next caravan back to the Hills, in a week."

* * *

Astrid opened the door that joined her rooms to Idunn's, and padded along the floor by the light of her dim candle. Idunn's bedroom door was ajar and the candle was out, but Astrid couldn't believe she was already asleep. Idunn had excused herself the moment supper was over, and while Astrid had felt compelled to remain behind to temper whatever Mother might say to Lady Dís and King Thorin, she regretted not going to Idunn right then.

"Idunn," she whispered into the darkness. "Are you awake?" A long moment passed until Astrid began to think she had been mistaken.

"I'm awake," Idunn said at last.

Astrid crept to her bed, set the candle on the nightstand, and sat down beside her. "Lady Dís took me aside after you left. She was sorry she didn't come right away to comfort us, but she was with Mother and Father this afternoon and didn't know about the orcs until just before supper. She sounded truly angry about it, too, and said she should have been told straight away that such a thing had happened."

"It's all right."

"And I was selfish enough to let Fíli comfort me while you were all alone."

"I was in no mood for company."

"Perhaps not, but you might have needed it all the same." Guilt pricked at Astrid for being so taken up with her own fears she hadn't thought to look after Idunn's. "I shouldn't have abandoned you."

"Don't think of it."

"They were sorry you weren't feeling well tonight," Astrid said.

"Who, Aunt and Uncle?"

"No, King Thorin and Lady Dís." The King, in fact, had seemed unhappier than usual, but Astrid thought that had more to do with the awful orc fight than that Idunn had left the table early. He'd said nothing at all the rest of the evening, but only stared into the fire with a terrible look on his face like he still wanted to fight something.

After a while, she said, "Are you sure you want to leave us? It was wrong of Mother and Father to assume such things of you. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I have to."

"But why?" Astrid stroked Idunn's hair away from her face. Even in the dim candlelight she could see she was miserable. "Is it because of what happened today?"

"Yes. No." She shook her head against the pillow. "Not exactly."

"What, then?"

Idunn was silent for a long while. "I can't stay here anymore."

"Why? I thought you were happy here." Despite her few arguments with the King, Astrid had thought Idunn content in Erebor.

"I -" Idunn drew a ragged breath that threatened tears. "I miss home."

"You can't possibly miss being Heidrun's nursemaid, Idunn, even I don't miss that." Just going back to the Hills would have been one thing, but agreeing to tend Heidrun and her dwarfling was beyond what Astrid could have expected of her, even on her worst day.

"Please don't ask me. I may be sad tonight, but I will be fine again tomorrow, I promise." She sounded so resigned to sorrow, it was unlike any version of Idunn Astrid had ever known.

"I don't understand."

"I know, but you must trust it's the best thing for me."

Astrid stroked Idunn's hair a moment more. "I'm not at all sure that I do."

* * *

"You could put an end to this madness, you know that don't you?"

Thorin would need to put a lock on his own study door. Dís strode into the room and planted herself on the chair next to him. He sat in an armchair, staring into the fire like his old brooding ogre self.

"What do you expect me to do?"

Dís tutted at him. "Tell her to stay, you idiot."

"She said she wants to leave, I can't very well command her not to."

She hooted with laughter. "That hasn't stopped you before."

"And what good has that done? She resents me and chafes at my every word."

"Then give her a good reason to stay."

"And what reason would that be?"

Dís kicked his good leg in the shin, sending a jolt of pain from his ankle to his knee. "Don't be a complete arse, Thorin. You love Idunn."

"It doesn't follow that she loves me."

"Finally! Praise Mahal, you've as good as admitted it. That's the first step, you dolt."

"You might insult me less in my own halls."

"And I might not. If you think she doesn't love you, you haven't seen what I have."

"Then she has concealed it from everyone but you." The memory of Idunn's fierce defense of him that morning burned in his mind, calling him out on the lie. She had put herself between him and danger without a second thought. The weight of what that meant had not been lost on him, indeed it had sent him straight to his forges. Yet her decision to return to the Iron Hills could not be ignored, however much he might want to.

"You're going to let her go out of foolish pride?"

"It would be no less foolish of me to think I can command her heart. I'm going to let her do as she chooses."

"Thorin, you're my brother and I love you, but don't ruin this."

* * *

Screams rent the air. Astrid sat up in bed, her eyes straining in the darkness before she realized that she was the one screaming. The visions of orcs had followed her into her dreams, where they came at her tenfold. Her heart hammered in her chest and her face was wet with tears, her bedclothes tangled around her.

Idunn's sudden appearance at her door sent a fresh wave of fear through her, as though orcs had done the unthinkable and breached Erebor's defenses.

"Astrid? Are you all right?" Idunn walked in with the light of a small candle before turning up the lantern on Astrid's nightstand.

She gave a small nod before they heard a soft knock at the main door of her chamber.

"I'll go," Idunn said.

There was a murmur of voices, and when she returned a shadowy figure followed behind her.

"Fíli, what are you doing here?" Astrid asked even as she reached out to him. The liquid fear that seemed to fill her chest drained away a little now that he was near.

He sat beside her on the bed and wrapped her in his arms. The sweet smell of pipe smoke curled around them like a talisman against evil. "I thought you might have a hard time sleeping."

"You heard me from your rooms?" A thick embarrassment sank through her to think that anyone had heard, Fíli most of all.

"I was in the corridor," he said. "Just in case."

"Thank you," she whispered into the folds of his tunic. He was too good and wonderful for words.

"You can go back to bed, Idunn," Fíli said. "I will stay up with her."

Even in the dim light Astrid could see the sharp look Idunn shot him. "This is the exact situation that calls for a chaperone."

"On my honor, I won't even kiss her," Fíli said. Astrid tilted her head to look up at him. "Very much."

"I just need him to stay for a little while," Astrid said. She was sure his presence would ward off more nightmares.

Idunn looked as though she would argue but then she yawned behind a hand. Fíli gestured as though she had proven his point.

"I will go," she said, "but I'm leaving all the doors open."

"Understood," Fíli said.

"Goodnight, Idunn," Astrid called to her.

Idunn gave her a stern look. "Goodnight," she said, and disappeared into the darkness.

"Here." Fíli turned down the light on Astrid's bedside lamp and lay down atop the coverlet. She snuggled next to him beneath it, suddenly all too aware of why Idunn had been reluctant to leave them so alone. He laced one arm behind her head and the other around her shoulders, his warmth seeping through to her through the bedclothes. When she closed her eyes again she could almost believe the orcs had never been real.

"Do you think me a coward?" she whispered into the darkness. His praise of her that afternoon had been _before_ she had woken screaming in the night.

"I think you have seen your first orc and you're rightfully horrified." He pressed a soft kiss to her head as he hugged her closer. "But talking of them isn't likely to improve your dreams."

"You might."

A soft rumble of laughter came from his chest. "Don't tempt me to break my promise to Idunn so soon."

Sure she was blushing scarlet, Astrid was thankful for the darkness. "That wasn't what I meant. I only meant you might _talk_ and distract me."

"Ah, that makes more sense." He shifted slightly against her and seemed to settle down into the pillows of her bed. "I could tell you the tale of the lucky miner."

"I don't think I know it."

"Well, there once was a dwarf who sought a mine. He was a very well regarded miner and had his choice of all the mines in his lands. Then one day, his, er, miner uncle told him, 'Here is your mine and you can have no other'."

"I'm already unsure about this story," she said.

"Shh, it's a good story. So he began to work the mine - "

Astrid made an indignant sound in the back of her throat and knocked a fist against his chest.

"He began to get to know the mine," Fíli amended. "To his delight, he discovered that this was a very good mine, filled with riches beyond all his hope or expectation."

"I should like to think so."

"And although he hadn't chosen for himself, the miner knew he had been given the best mine of all possible mines, and could never be induced to give it up again."

There was a moment of silence.

"Was that the end?" she asked.

"Yes."

"That's a terrible story."

His laughter rumbled again. "Then you may be the one to tell stories when our children cannot sleep."

His words filled her with delight. She pressed her face closer to his chest and closed her eyes again. _Our children._

"I will," she murmured, and she let the sound of his breathing soothe the last of her fears away.

* * *

Although he wanted to stay with her until morning, Fíli carefully drew away from Astrid once she was sleeping soundly again. Idunn was right, being in Astrid's bed was a huge impropriety and a temptation he wasn't entirely sure he could resist should she wake again. All her soft little sleeping sounds were already driving him mad.

He crept from the room and softly closed the door behind him. Rather than go to his own rooms, he sank down against the wall of the corridor. The sconce flames had been turned down low for the evening, and if he could find the right position he might sleep a few hours yet. He would be ready should Astrid need him again.

He had barely closed his eyes before a familiar shuffling sound came from further down the corridor. Thorin rounded the corner, but when he saw Fíli a guilty look stole over his face as though he'd been caught in the midst of something sinister. Fíli stood and went to him.

"How are they doing?" Thorin asked in a low voice.

"Astrid had a nightmare an hour or so ago. She's asleep again, but I thought I'd keep watch."

Thorin nodded. "And Idunn?"

"She's handling it well, so far as I can see."

"She was subdued at supper."

"Yes, well, the sudden appearance of her Aunt and Uncle may have had something to do with that."

Thorin gave him a bracing look in the low light. "Dáin did mention something about that in his letters, if I recall. 'Lofty aspirations' may have been the words."

It was certainly true. Fíli had given little thought to Astrid's parents until now, but had had a rude awakening on their unexpected arrival. He loved Astrid and would cherish her as his wife, but he knew already he would avoid her parents whenever he could. He would respect them, yes, but to delight in them was beyond his current expectations.

"Are you going to let them send Idunn away?" he asked.

Thorin's mouth twisted into a frown. "You think I have any say in if she stays or goes?"

"Yes, although perhaps not as King Under the Mountain."

"My family has grown so wise, you all have advice for me today."

"I'll give you no advice, then. But I will say that if you let Madam Groa replace Idunn, Kíli would more likely take a post on Ravenhill's watchtower than endure her company until spring."

"Indeed."

Thorin pulled something bound in leather from his tunic, and passed it to Fíli. He unwrapped the thick leather to reveal silver that glittered in the low candlelight. "What's this?"

"Astrid's dagger, I assume. I found it stuck fast in an orc's heart."

Pride bloomed anew in Fíli's chest. He had known she hadn't merely watched the battle, but he'd been too busy with his own fighting to see exactly what had happened. The woman he loved had felled an orc. A dwarf couldn't ask for more.

Thorin stepped back as though ready to return to his chambers. "Should I have a bed made up for you in the corridor?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

"Should I be anywhere else?"

Thorin clapped him lightly on the shoulder before walking away. Fíli returned to his spot beside Astrid's door and made himself comfortable for what sleep he would get.


	17. Chapter 17

Thorin's new determination just might kill him. His leg had been burning before they'd even made it halfway to Dale and now moved as though it were made of steel, but he kept on. With Dwalin and Kíli at his right, Fíli at his left, and thirty warriors behind, he couldn't very well ask them to stop to let him catch his breath.

Not even if he'd forgotten his handkerchief. His mouth twitched into a smile. Much had gone wrong since that fateful departure for the Lonely Mountain, and much had gone worse since he'd arrived. Even so, it was time that he rise above his mistakes. He could be the dwarf he should have been from the start. Only one thing yet prevented him from finally letting go of the past, and he intended to begin to set that right today.

Bard walked out to meet them in front of the gate. "King Thorin of Erebor," he said with a brief bow. "I must admit, it's a pleasure to see you here."

"It has been too long since I've been to Dale, King Bard." Thorin gave a cursory bow of his own. "Please accept my condolences on the boys you lost yesterday."

Bard's smile disappeared. "Three young lads the age of my own son paid for their hunting trophies with their lives. I thank you and your nephews for dispatching the orcs that did it."

He waved them through the gates and led Thorin, Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin along the streets of Dale. Thorin could have done without Dale's long, winding lanes and many staircases but he followed on, ignoring his leg as well as he might. Much had been restored in the city these last years, and he saw evidence of new masonry and fresh-hewn stones as they passed. The grim thought that he should have come to see the improvements before now crossed his mind, but he pushed it away again. He could only change the future, not the past.

Finally they reached Dale's council chambers. They were not so fine as Erebor's, nor even so fine as they once had been, but they reflected their king well.

After they had all settled into their chairs around a polished oak table, Bard said, "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Orcs," Thorin said. Bard raised an eyebrow. "This attack during the day proves we must act. We have too many on our borders, running wild over our lands as though they have nothing to fear. They killed your people on my very doorstep. It's high time we put a stop to it. Together."

A slow grin crept across Bard's face. "I do like the sound of that."

A few hours of discussion led to an array of agreements between the two lands. Their forces would work together to cull the last of the orc stragglers left over from the Great Battle, and prevent new infestations with patrols. No longer would they simply wait for the orcs to appear, but they would seek them out where they were hiding. Thorin hoped such a show of unity might be enough to send the last remnants on their way, but their troops would be rallied were it not.

"Perhaps one day Dale's markets will boast dwarf craftsmen, working side by side with ours as it did of old," Bard said.

"I would like to see that day," Thorin said. Too long had such advances floundered on his behalf. Too long had he held onto old grudges, to everyone's detriment. It was time for him to let go of the past so he could move into the future. "I have one final favor to ask of you."

"Oh?"

"When next your men have dealings with the Woodland Realm..." He paused as he gathered up all his tattered pride to give voice to something he never imagined himself saying. "Tell King Thranduil I am ready to make a trade."

* * *

Although she'd had a fitful night's sleep, Idunn convinced herself she had thrown off the larger part of her grief and sorrow at agreeing to an immediate removal. Leaving Erebor had always been in her future, now it was only moved up a few months. She had never truly expected to stay. While she might regret the casual way she had been cast aside by her aunt and uncle, it was no more than might have happened come spring. Astrid's had been a permanent invitation, hers had not.

All other regrets were pushed aside as utterly absurd.

She spent the day trailing Astrid while she showed Aunt and Uncle about the halls. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were occupied, doing what, Dís did not say and Idunn dared not ask. After the previous day's events, their business could be any number of ill activities she had little stomach to contemplate.

The Mountain buzzed with the tale of how the Sons of Durin had wiped out a party of orcs, and every dwarf they passed seemed to have the story on their lips. The whispers Idunn heard held a sense of surprise but also a fierce pride in their king and his heirs, and the change warmed her heart. If Aunt and Uncle heard anything about the battle they were too busy judging Erebor's artwork to remark on it.

Groa and Destin seemed on a mission to admire and criticize each item in Erebor by turns. The statuary was magnificent yet mundane, the friezes life-like yet predictable, the portraits fine yet no more than expected. It was as though they feared every compliment they paid Erebor would condemn the Iron Hills and therefore themselves.

They wandered the great portrait hall, Uncle seeming to see nothing, and Groa noticing everything. "Your portrait will be here soon, my dear," she said with a twitching smile. " _Queen Astrid_."

Astrid glanced around, probably to make sure no one had overheard such a brazen remark, but they were alone in the portrait hall. "That's unlikely, since even King Thorin has no portrait here, Mother. And please don't speak of me as Queen, it's an insult to both King Thorin and Fíli."

A few months in Erebor had worn away her patience for her mother's excess pride, it seemed.

"How can it insult Fíli? He is the one giving you the title."

"It's an insult to his love for his uncle, who must die before I could ever become Queen, and it's an insult to say Fíli's love for me is not reason enough to be his wife."

Groa seemed somewhat chastened by the gentle rebuke. Astrid had rarely taken such a stand against her in Idunn's memory. Perhaps taking on an orc had given her the confidence to take on her own mother.

"This is all very modest of you, Astrid," Destin said, "but we never would have consented to the match were it not for Fíli's title and wealth, and all that that holds for our family. Even you must see the truth in that."

Idunn could hardly believe such insolence. They acted as though Astrid's betrothal to Fíli had put them on a level with the House of Durin, when in truth no one was on that level. She had half a mind to tell them of the _other families_ Thorin had mentioned considering for the betrothal, but thought better of it. She was in no mood to antagonize Aunt and Uncle, especially not when Astrid was already in such fine form.

"I would marry Fíli even if he were yet in exile in the Blue Mountains with nothing but a mine to his name," Astrid said with a little spark of fire in her eyes.

Groa patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Thank goodness it will never come to that, dear."

Astrid was no doubt readying some impertinent reply when Idunn laced an arm around her waist and led her gently away. "Come, my dear cousin, let's look at these fine portraits over here," Idunn said as Astrid fumed at her side.

When they were well out of earshot of Groa and Destin, Idunn said, "I admire this new spirit you have. Prolonged exposure to the Sons of Durin has changed you."

"You blame _them_?" Astrid asked with a layer of mock indignation. "You are the one who always says exactly what she thinks, even to the King Under the Mountain."

Her words were like a knife twisting in Idunn's heart. "I do _not_ always say exactly what I think to King Thorin," she said softly.

Astrid glanced over her shoulder to where Aunt and Uncle stood. "Were they this bad in the Iron Hills?" she whispered.

"I'm afraid so. You weren't ignorant of their faults, you know."

"No, I wasn't, but in the Hills it wasn't so..." She gestured vaguely towards her parents.

"They weren't insulting your dearest love and the royal family all in one go in the Hills," Idunn finished for her.

"Oh, Idunn, is there no way to convince you to stay with me?" Astrid whispered, her hands reaching out to cling to Idunn's. "I cannot bear the idea of always having to make sure Mother doesn't offend Fíli or Thorin or anyone else. I'm sure we could persuade her to return, in time."

It would be long months for Astrid, always having to mitigate her mother's thoughtless words, but the alternative for Idunn was unthinkable. To remain always near Thorin, knowing how he despised her for coming to his aid in the orc-fight, even as her own tender feelings for him continued undeterred? It was impossible.

"I cannot stay," she said.

* * *

After a day spent walking over rough ground, Thorin was ready to take an axe to his leg to be rid of the pain. And yet, he had borne the pain and the leg had borne him, however it burned. When his party returned to the halls late in the afternoon, he put the salves Óin had laid by for him on his mangled muscles. It was poor comfort, but he would have to accept what little relief he found.

He dressed for supper and walked to the large dining hall. Dís was already there, imperceptibly nudging pieces of the table setting to better suit her liking. She glanced up at him with eager eyes. "So?"

"So Erebor and Dale will join forces on patrols to wipe out the last of the orcs that trouble us." He stood behind his chair, his hands clasped behind his back. He might rather have sat while he waited for their guests, but after an entire day on the injured leg, a few more minutes could make little difference.

"I am glad to hear it, but you know that's not what I ask you."

"Were anything else to change, I'm sure you would know."

She seemed dissatisfied with this answer, but at that moment the dining room doors opened. In walked Fíli, squiring Astrid like he held the whole world in his hands. Behind them was Kíli, ensconced between Groa and Destin, regaling them with some nonsense. Last of all trailed Idunn.

She did not look as pale and forlorn as she had the night before. This was perhaps a good thing, but he thought it more a false front than a reflection of her true feelings. Despite her small smiles to him and the rest of their companions, the starlight that usually shone from her eyes was dimmed, her expressions flat and without heart. It was this _nothingness_ that troubled him most. He didn't want her to have to play pretend, in his halls or anywhere else.

Everyone took their places and Thorin motioned for the meal to be served. In the commotion of platters, bowls, and mugs going around, he noticed Idunn put little on her plate. She ate, but even that seemed only for show, as the bites couldn't possibly be enough to sustain her.

"Astrid took us on a tour of Erebor this morning," Destin said. "Your halls are quite fine."

"Not so fine as some I have seen," Groa said, "but very fine indeed."

Thorin exchanged a glance with Dís. It was no true compliment to simultaneously praise and detract. It might soothe the ego for a moment, but the ridiculousness of her false flattery could not be denied. No halls compared to Erebor.

"Madam Groa was just telling me of some improvements we might consider," Kíli said, his mouth twisting to contain his laughter.

"Mother." Astrid's whisper was barely above the sound of the cutlery, but even Thorin could hear the pleading in her voice.

"Tell me, Destin, how long will business keep you in Erebor?" Fíli asked.

"But a few weeks, I am sorry to say," he said as he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "I should like to stay longer but at the moment it's simply not possible. I am required in the Hills. I'm likely to depart on the next caravan after Idunn's."

"Tomorrow I want to visit the markets," Groa said. "I'd like to buy some gifts for dear little Brunin. You may take them to him when you go, Idunn."

Idunn glanced at her aunt but remained silent. She had nothing but chastisements and pert remarks when he spoke to her, but would withstand her aunt's orders without a word? Maybe she truly did want to leave Erebor. And yet her solemn demeanor was not of one fulfilling her deepest desires.

"Now, Idunn," Groa said, "Heidrun wanted me to be clear with you that you are to be very careful with the baby, as you have no experience with them and know so little of their care."

"It's a wonder, then, that she should wish me to care for her child," Idunn said.

Now that sounded more like the woman Thorin had come to know.

"Beggars can't be choosers," Groa said. Then she turned to Dís. "Not that we are beggars, of course, but Idunn is right _there_ , you know - "

"Would you not feel more comfortable caring for your daughter and the dwarfling yourself?" Thorin asked. Idunn shifted at his side but did not meet his eye.

"Indeed," Dís said, "I cannot imagine giving up so much time with a new dwarfling." She cast a meaningful glance at Fíli. The lad was still being prodded and pushed, but producing an heir was one duty Thorin doubted Fíli would mind fulfilling.

"It is a burden, I must confess," Groa said. "But I knew my Astrid needed me with her here in Erebor, as I should have been from the start."

Thorin could only imagine how things might have gone had that been the case. He little liked to think of the changes such an alteration would have made, in him or anyone else present.

"I have been very happy having Idunn here," Astrid said. "Not that I don't miss you, Mother, but Idunn is perfectly well suited to being my companion."

"Perfectly well suited," Kíli echoed.

"Idunn," Destin said, now glancing down the table to his niece, "you don't mind going back to the Hills, do you?"

Thorin didn't like how the question was designed to guide Idunn to Destin's desired response rather than to consult her feelings on the matter. That Thorin himself had mastered such questioning would have to be put aside for the moment.

"It is time I went home," she said simply.

* * *

Idunn had fully intended to remain in the dining hall as long as conversation around the hearth lasted, but she couldn't bear to do it. Not only was Thorin always watching her, but the others were as well, and the constant scrutiny wore on her. Her pleasant facade was only like a thin crust of ice on a lake, and she felt she would fall through into the abyss at any moment.

When the others made themselves comfortable by the fire, Idunn quietly excused herself and slipped from the room. Out in the hallway she took great lungfuls of air as though she hadn't breathed the whole time she'd been shut up in there. It felt so like a death, this pretending, but she only need endure it a few days more. Then she could grieve in freedom.

"Idunn."

She had nearly reached her rooms when Thorin's voice stopped her. She composed herself and made her expression as blank as possible before turning around to face him. "Sire?"

"I asked you to call me by my name."

She only bobbed her head in silent acknowledgement. She would not call him by his name, no matter how many times he asked. If she spoke his name, every last piece of her heart would be spoken with it.

After a pause, he asked, "Do you really wish to leave us?"

"I must." She didn't meet his gaze, knowing she hadn't truly answered the question. "Heidrun and little Brunin need me."

"They don't need you," he said. "They need a nursemaid, but not you."

"Would you have me deny my kin?"

He hesitated before answering. "I would have you do as you choose."

His simple words left an ache in her heart. What she would choose could never be hers.

"It matters very little, one way or another," she said, hoping to convince them both with her casual tone. He watched her with eyes that didn't quite believe her in any case. "I would have returned after the wedding. It's but a few months difference."

"You could stay here."

It sounded almost like a request, like he hoped she would. But no - if Thorin wanted something he wouldn't dole out hints, he would ask for it outright. To hear any more in it was her own wishful thinking.

"I can't."

He took a step closer to her until they were nearly toe to toe. "Don't you want to stay in Erebor?"

"Of course I want to stay."

"Then why don't you?"

" _I_ _can't_." Her voice rose out of frustration she could no longer contain. How could he not understand? After all that she had said and done, he would ask her this? "Do you not know how it pains me to leave Erebor? How it tears at me to leave behind everything I've come to love?"

At that small word, comprehension danced in his eyes. Everything she'd feared revealing now was known. There could be no point in concealment. "But it would be worse to stay and remain nothing to you."

He took both her hands in his, and her heart raced at the shock. "Then stay, and be everything to me."

She tried to pull her fingers free from his but he refused to let her go. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I love you, Idunn." His low voice was strained with emotion. "I want you to stay here with me and be my wife."

She stopped struggling against him and searched his eyes. They were filled with no deceit, only a vibrant urgency and a depth of need that sent her reeling. "Can you be in earnest?"

"This is a poor beginning." His tone was light, but the intensity of his gaze was not. "I want you for my wife, Idunn. I don't want you to leave me, now or ever. I want you at my side, not because I command it, but because you choose it."

"Thorin - " she whispered.

A triumphant grin curled along his mouth. "No more _sire_."

"I can hardly believe this."

He cast a grave look on her and released her hands, although he made no move to put any distance between them. "I have never yet paid you for my sword."

She didn't understand how that followed, but she shook her head. "It was a gift."

"Then I must respond in kind. Gifts given," he said as he reached into a small pouch on his belt, "and gifts received." He held out his hand. In his open palm lay a ring.

"What is this?"

"My betrothal gift to you. If you'll accept it."

She took the ring and examined it. It was a band of steel with a shining silver inlay engraved with his symbol, echoing the sword she had made for him. "You made this?"

He smiled as he gently placed his arms around her. They had rarely touched since they'd met, and yet being in his arms felt like coming home after a long absence. "I should be offended you think so little of my skills as a smith. I visited my forges yesterday."

He was revealing surprise upon surprise and Idunn struggled to keep up. "Why?"

"I nearly lost you. I knew I could never risk such a fate again." His eyes roved all over her face as he let his fingers trail through her hair, sending sparks through her whole body. "Forgive me for losing my temper. The fear of you coming to harm nearly drove me mad. When I was sure you were sound my impulse was to take you in my arms, but I knew I had no right. I suppose I still have no right, but I hope you will not refuse me."

His soft admission of his hopes and fears filled her with a warmth that seemed to take root in her heart and seep out into her limbs. Even so, she could not entirely excuse his actions of the day before as masked affection. "It was not only for fear of my safety that you were angry."

"No," he said, edging his face closer to hers, "it wasn't. I admit my pride was bruised that you took up a sword to defend me when I should have been the one defending you. In but a little time I saw it not as an offense, but for what it truly was."

He reverently traced her hairline from her temple to her jaw, his feather-light touches making her head spin. She rested her hands lightly on his chest, one hand closed fast around the silver ring.

"And what was it?" she asked, even though they both knew she did it for love of him.

"Oh, Idunn," he said, his voice a purr of tenderness, "will you make everything so difficult for me?"

"Very likely," she said, even as her words were caught up by his mouth. Thorin's kiss was gentle at first, a tentative question, but when she responded in kind he soon lost even a pretense at decorum. He held her face in his hands and kissed her as though there was nothing else but her in all the world.

How could she have ever thought this dwarf stern and unfeeling? He was all emotion, passionate and tender by turns, and she was utterly lost in him. Everything she wanted was there in the warmth of his arms, the touch of his hands, the sharp scent of him. How he could arouse and lull at the same time, she did not know, but he might have proposed anything at that moment and she would have agreed.

A strange, strangled sound came from over Thorin's shoulder. They turned their faces to see Groa standing in the hallway, her eyes nearly as wide as her open mouth. She seemed frozen except for the working of her throat, which kept making the odd sound of surprise.

One of Thorin's hands was still firm on Idunn's waist, the other tangled in her hair, while her own fingers clung to the front of his tunic. She had thought he might jump away from her or offer Groa some excuse, but he only looked irritated at the interruption.

"I left my shawl in Astrid's room," Groa finally said. She glanced at the door behind them but seemed to think better of trying to reach it. "I'll do without." She returned down the corridor and did not look back.

"We will have some explaining to do." Idunn could well imagine Aunt's censure for being discovered in so compromising a position, and with the King, no less. There was no knowing what part of that sentence would make Aunt more livid.

"Will you accept me as your husband?" Thorin asked softly in her ear.

For the barest moment a shadow of her fears of his indifference returned, that somehow she had concocted this entire scenario in her head. But no, that was Thorin's hand at her waist, Thorin's fingers at her back, and Thorin's beard nuzzling her neck. It was entirely real.

She slipped his ring onto the first finger of her right hand. "Yes, I will."

"Then we need explain ourselves to no one," he said, and his mouth found hers again.

* * *

Mother had only been gone a few minutes before she returned to the hearth in the dining room. She looked shaken, as though she had just received troubling news. "Are you well, Mother?" Astrid asked.

She waved a dismissive hand in the air before sitting down again. Her brow was furrowed and her lips pursed tightly together.

"You've forgotten your shawl. Could you not find your way back to my rooms?"

"No, I found them, I - " She placed a hand on her chest as though it pained her. "I changed my mind about it."

"We could seat you closer to the fire," Fíli said at Astrid's side. "Shall I move a chair?"

"Do you need a brandy?" Dís asked.

"You do look a little unwell, Groa." Father scrutinized her from a distance over the book he had open.

"I'm quite well," Mother said with no little irritation, but the outburst was gone again as soon as it had come. "I'm just curious. You see, I'm a little confused as to the line of succession."

The admission horrified Astrid but Dís only seemed amused by this.

"In what way?" Dís asked.

"Thorin is King," Mother said like a child looking for a reward for knowing her lessons, "but his nephew is his heir?"

Lady Dís glanced to Fíli and back to Mother. "Yes, because Thorin has no son."

"And if he were," Mother faltered, "to have a son?"

The question was met by a moment of silence as the family all exchanged glances. Then Kíli burst into such a bout of laughter he nearly fell off his chair. Lady Dís threw her hands in the air and said, "Thank Mahal!" Fíli grinned and nodded his approval as though Mother's impertinent concerns about the Line had been a long-sought relief. All three were obviously in on some joke whose humor was utterly beyond Astrid.

She leaned closer to Fíli. "What is behind all this?"

"Oh, darling," he said as he wrapped one arm around her, "will you mind very much not being Queen?"

"Queen? No, not at all, but I don't understand - "

Fíli gave her a knowing look and somehow the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. How could she not have seen it before? She had been so caught up in her own affections and courtship, she'd entirely overlooked the signs of Idunn's.

At that moment the dining room door burst open and in walked Thorin, hand in hand with Idunn. His grin looked ferocious in the firelight, as though he'd just claimed success after a long battle. Idunn fairly glowed, her gloom of the last two days replaced by a joy unlike anything Astrid had ever seen in her.

"Destin, Groa," Thorin said with generous bows to each, "I am pleased to inform you that Idunn will _not_ be returning to the Iron Hills to care for little Brunin."

Mother looked away, her face crumpling at his every word.

"Idunn has consented to be my wife."

The family erupted into further cheers, and Astrid joined the others as they surrounded Thorin and Idunn to offer congratulations. His family might have known of it, but the idea of such an attachment was still a shock to Astrid's mind. And yet, the delight that glowed from Idunn's face confirmed for her that this match, however hidden it may have been, was one built on love.

* * *

 **One chapter to go, full of celebrations and finales! As always, thank you so much for all of your responses!**


	18. Chapter 18

Thorin sat on his throne with Fíli and Kíli standing at either side. They watched King Thranduil make his slow approach, and took careful note of the elves who followed bearing a large wooden chest. The elf's eyes were fixed on Thorin, and he seemed even more suspicious than his usual untrusting self.

"King Thorin," Thranduil said with the slightest of bows. "I must say I could hardly believe the message I received from Dale inviting me here to trade."

"Indeed, you brought half your army." At least a hundred elves had accompanied Thranduil, to protect their King or what he sought to bear away, Thorin couldn't say.

"That's not close to half," Thranduil said coolly. "I wonder what precipitated this change. When last we spoke you seemed unwilling to trade, to say the very least."

"Call it a change of heart."

Something flashed across the elf's features that said he doubted Thorin had a heart to alter. It was no matter. He didn't do this for Thranduil, he did it for himself. He nodded and one of his guards stepped forward bearing a small box carved out of dark wood. Thranduil's eyes were sharp on the guard's approach. He looked like nothing so much as a cat about to pounce on its prey.

The guard stood before Thranduil and opened the box. The elf was immediately transfixed. He moved forward and reached out long fingers as though to touch the necklace within but paused and turned his eyes on Thorin. "What trick is this?"

Thorin stepped down from his throne and suddenly Thranduil stood at full height with one hand fast upon his sword hilt. "It's no trick," Thorin said, making no move to respond similarly.

Thranduil seemed reluctant to believe him but was drawn back to the necklace as though entranced by moonlight itself. Moving slowly, he allowed one finger to lightly touch the gems. He breathed his wife's name, a sigh in the silent hall. When he took the box from the guard, he clutched it to his chest, the last relic of his wife's memory. A mountain of grief furrowed Thranduil's brow and darkened his gaze, but it was gone again in a moment. Guilt twisted through Thorin until it became something like pity for this elf he had long despised.

Thranduil made a slight motion, and his entourage stepped forward to lay their offering at Thorin's feet. The chest was thrown open, revealing axes, knives, bows, and the elven sword Orcrist.

"Are we agreed?" Thranduil asked.

"We are."

Thranduil nodded, and his guards turned as one to depart. The elf still looked as though he expected an ambush, but Thorin stood like stone. Once Thranduil was out of sight, Kíli dropped to one knee to examine the small store of weapons. He tested his old bow, and ran his fingers along the string.

Thorin had borne some small belief that returning the gems to Thranduil would free him of the last of his torment. He'd carried his grandfather's mistakes and made them his own; perhaps finally amending them would set his mind at ease. A weight was lifted, but he knew he would bear regret for his failings until his dying day. Perhaps it was better this way. He could remember where he had fallen, to avoid a similar fate the next time. Or so one would hope.

"It was the right thing to do." Fíli stood beside him as they watched Kíli plunder the trove of weapons they had last held years ago in Mirkwood.

"I will never be a perfect dwarf, Fíli, but I can try to be better than the one I was yesterday."

* * *

The fire in the dining room hearth crackled, and in its pleasant warmth Idunn thought she had never been so comfortable. She sat tucked up against Thorin's side, his arm draped around her as the family's after-supper chat lingered on into the evening. Some part of her realized she was now making the same shows of affection with Thorin that had once so bothered her when displayed by Astrid and Fíli, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put a stop to it.

"Astrid, do tell your parents they are welcome to join us for supper any time," Dís said as she worked on embroidery in the glow of a candle's flame. "It's a shame they've avoided us these last weeks."

She cast a sly glance at Thorin, who they all knew was the reason for Aunt and Uncle's absence at the supper table. Groa had refused to speak to Idunn for three days after Thorin's proposal, and feigned sickness in her rooms. Perhaps she truly had been ill, considering how all her grandest hopes for Astrid - and herself - had been dashed. Thorin had somewhat made it up to her by arranging a nursemaid to tend Heidrun and Brunin for the next year as a gift to their family, and although they had expressed their gratitude, Aunt and Uncle had not yet returned to the royal dining rooms.

"I'm sure they'll join us again," Astrid said, "but they have...much acquaintance in the Mountain." Her mouth twitched as she spoke the small lie, but no one called her on it. As difficult as Aunt and Uncle could be, it was as Idunn had long suspected - everyone in the royal family now loved Astrid too much to hold anything her parents might say or do against her.

"Perhaps when Dáin and his family arrive," Fíli said.

Thorin shifted slightly at her side. She could just imagine how dining with that group would go - Aunt and Uncle vying for recognition of their perceived status, Lord Dáin telling the loudest and most embarrassing stories imaginable. It would likely be a noisy, overlong ordeal, but an unavoidable one all the same.

"Have you heard anything from our neighbors yet, Thorin?" Dís asked.

"Bard and his family will attend," he said. "As to the others, I cannot say."

The _others_ would go nameless so long as everyone wished the conversation to remain light and cheerful.

"How is it, Uncle, that Astrid and I must wait the full betrothal year before we are wed, but you and Idunn will only wait eight weeks?" Fíli asked.

"You are young," Thorin said, "and need to learn patience. I have already learned that lesson several times over."

Dís suppressed a chortle as Fíli's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Then the reward for patience is impatience?" he asked.

"So it would seem," Thorin said, a shadow of a smile at the edges of his mouth. Waiting the traditional betrothal year had never so much as been discussed between them. While she was sure he would have waited had she wished it, Idunn had no such desires.

A knock sounded at the dining room door, and a soldier entered. He went straight to Thorin. He bowed, delivered a note, and departed again.

Thorin released Idunn as he read the brief note. When he was finished, he gave Fíli and Kíli a significant nod, and the three quickly rose from their seats.

"What's this?" Idunn asked as she, too, stood beside Thorin.

"A small matter, but one long overdue." He took her hands in his. "I will see you in the morning."

"You're going out to fight them." Dread twisted in her stomach until it tightened into a knot. She was dimly aware of Fíli bidding farewell to Astrid and Kíli giving his mother a quick embrace, but all she could think about was Thorin.

"It's just a small band, but I would be no sort of king if I did not join my warriors in the fight."

However small the band might be, he was about to march out to battle just weeks after they declared themselves to each other. He had said he didn't want her to leave him, but now he was the one preparing to depart. It was so like him she could hardly stand it. Still, she knew he was right, that his duty lay with protecting Erebor and leading his people.

"You are king first," she said. "I wouldn't change that if I could."

He pulled her closer to press his forehead to hers, and a trembling rush of love swept through her. She saw his lips curve slightly before he closed the distance between them for a kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with firm resolve. Her own pricked with waiting tears for this first parting, but she would not cry for him going off to fight a few wandering orcs. If she was truly to be queen, she must set aside any such display of fear for him. He was King Thorin of Erebor - orcs would flee his axe.

Despite her attempt at stoicism, Thorin must have seen through it. "No tears," he said softly.

She shook her head. "I am only sorry for the orcs you are about to destroy."

He gave her a tender smile that made her heart leap. "Rest easy tonight. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"I love you." She drew in a great breath and raised her chin higher. A fierce pride curled through her to know he now joined the fight he had once scorned. However much she might hate the chance of him coming to harm, she had seen firsthand how deadly he could be. "Dispatch these, and return as quickly as you can."

"On my honor." He kissed her fingers and finally drew away. He turned and left the dining room, followed closely by Fíli and Kíli.

Astrid came up beside her and took her hand. "They'll be back in the Mountain before morning."

"Off to bed with you both," Dís said from behind them. "A few orcs are nothing to the Sons of Durin."

Their confidence bolstered Idunn's newfound worries for a warrior she loved. She wasn't likely to sleep well, but neither had she any great cause to fear. Thorin would return to her.

* * *

Fíli drew his sword from the fallen orc's body as he glanced around. Weapons clashed together in the night, their bearers all but invisible under the sliver of moonlight. Not far from him he caught the shape of a familiar shadow where Kíli struggled against his own foe. He struck it down at last, but his focus had allowed another orc to come up behind him. The orc raised its blackened blade even as Kíli realized the danger too late.

Fíli rushed forward to thrust his sword up to the hilt in the orc's back. The creature released its last gasp, dropped its sword, and fell. Kíli's look of shock quickly turned to a satisfied smirk. "That was lucky," he said.

"I think our childhood bet has been squared away." Fíli clasped him on the shoulder, double-checking for himself that his younger brother was sound.

"Gladly," Kíli said.

Fíli turned in time to see Thorin rushed by two orcs. Uncle stabbed the first through its chest before spinning to dash the head off the second. When he paused to assess the fight, he caught Fíli's eye and gave a nod of reassurance before he found another foe to combat. He'd given that nod a hundred times before in a hundred different battles, but never had it meant so much to Fíli.

The noise and tumult of just moments ago faded away as the company felled the last of the orcs. The stench of them stung Fíli's nose and clung to his clothes just as surely as their thick, black blood. This group had been larger than they'd expected, and when they split up, the dwarves had been forced to give chase in the darkness. Running after enemies he could barely see, not knowing if others were concealed in the black of night was never an easy fight, but they had come through it well enough in the end.

He watched as Thorin slowly made his way through the recovering dwarves, greeting soldiers and asking after the few wounded. His limp was worse after the long walk out and the ensuing chase, but whatever pain he felt he kept well concealed. For their part, the soldiers alternately bowed and bellowed greetings to their king, with some striking up victory cheers as he passed. Thorin received their shouts of approval and offered commendations of his own, as he used to do in the Blues.

After he'd spoken briefly with each warrior, Thorin joined Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin where they'd stopped to catch their breath. "The guard's estimate was off," he said. "This was twice what he'd reported."

"Aye," Dwalin said, "his eyes were mistaken. That, or they met up with another group before we reached them."

Thorin glanced around them in the semidarkness. The flames of the orc-pyre cast strange shadows among the stand of trees and played tricks on the eyes. "I hate to think there are more laying by so close to our halls."

"There may be a stronghold to the north."

"If there is, Bard's scouts haven't found it yet." Fíli had heard the latest report from Dale just the day before. So far they'd had no success in tracing the orcs back to a central cave. By all accounts, they appeared scattered and leaderless.

"These aren't well-prepared fighters testing our defenses before an attack," Dwalin said as he returned one of his axes to its belt on his back. "We're just catching the ones too stupid to keep themselves well hidden when they pass."

"Pass?" Kíli said. "Pass to where?"

"They're on their way south, if I had to guess," Thorin said. "Things must be grim in their own caverns that they would risk such journeys so close to the Mountain. Wherever they're from, wherever they're going, they've trespassed here for the last time. We'll make our lands too dangerous for them to dare cross. Let them find another route to join their kind."

"And if there is a stronghold to the north?" Kíli asked.

Thorin clapped him on the shoulder. "Then we will find it and destroy it."

Pride and admiration surged through Fíli to hear his Uncle speak so. After a long dark walk through bitterness and regret, Thorin was truly king of Erebor.

* * *

Idunn clasped hands with Thorin in the center of a circle of their closest family and friends. The Great Chamber of Thrór was full to overflowing, the residents of the Lonely Mountain pressed tightly together from the corridors outside right up to the dais on which the circle stood. Somehow thousands of dwarves managed to be still and silent as they listened to Idunn and Thorin repeat the same marriage promises dwarves had made since the Seven Fathers took their wives.

"My house will be your home," Thorin said in his rich voice, his strong hands warm around Idunn's own, "and my home will be your heart."

"My heart will be your strength," she said, her words ringing out clear, "and your strength will be my joy."

"My joy will be yours, and your sorrows mine."

"You are mine, and I am yours."

In the brief silence that followed, Idunn's vision blurred at the edges so that all she could see was Thorin. He wore his deep blue velvet tunic that exactly matched the dress she wore, symbolizing their unity. The sword she had made for him was at his side, just as she wore its mate. His dark hair was loose apart from a single braid that fell from in front of each ear. And above all else were his pale blue eyes gazing into hers with an intensity that left her trembling.

Suddenly the chamber erupted into deafening applause. The brief ceremony was over, and Idunn was now Thorin's wife. She laughed for the sheer joy of the moment.

Astrid and Fíli were the first to congratulate them as the circle broke and the celebration began in earnest. "I wish you many children," Astrid said, whispering the traditional blessing in Idunn's ear. "I am happy for you."

"It will be your turn on this dais soon enough," Idunn said. Astrid glanced sideways at Fíli with a besotted grin.

"My Queen," Fíli said, taking Idunn's hand in his and kissing her knuckles, "I wish you joy."

"And I have it," she returned with an equally besotted grin at Thorin.

Kíli, too, came forward. "I can't say how glad I am for you both. Surprised," he said with a rakish grin, "but glad."

Dís was next with a generous hug. "I gain a sister and daughter this year. I am blessed beyond measure." The glisten of a tear in her eye was more tender emotion than she usually let herself display, and somehow it caused Idunn's own eyes to fill. She dashed the tears away as Dís embraced Thorin.

"I am happy for you, Brother," she said. "I knew you had it in you."

He cast an indulgent smile on her. "Your confidence in me was overwhelming."

She briefly touched his cheek before leaning forward so that he might press his forehead to hers. "You're in better hands than mine, now," she said when they parted. "I wish you both every good gift this life has to offer."

Others of their family and Thorin's Company came forward to congratulate them until the crowds at last took over, eager to offer their own good wishes. Idunn stood at Thorin's side, her arm linked in his, as they received blessing after blessing from what felt like the whole of the Mountain. Despite his past aversion to being among his people, Thorin accepted their kindnesses and attention with cordial thanks.

After countless greetings she turned and spoke low to him. "You are handling this well, husband."

He raised one eyebrow. "Only because when we have greeted every last resident I will be free to take you to my rooms, wife."

His reminder of what awaited them sent a shiver across her skin. It was only after the betrothal ceremony that the bride and groom were expected to stay and celebrate until the last guest departed; after the wedding they were expected to leave early, to seal their marriage pact in private.

He quirked one corner of his mouth, and leaned closer to whisper against her ear. "Have you nothing impertinent to say to me?"

His breath in her hair sent a tugging sensation through her belly, fanning the flames that seemed always running through her in his presence. "Let us greet our guests swiftly, then."

"As an arrow," he said before turning his attention back to the waiting throngs.

After some time, Thorin led her to where King Bard of Dale stood with others of his kingdom. Several of them held mugs of ale and watched the nearby dancing as though they were debating whether or not to join in.

"King Thorin," Bard said with a nod of his head, "I wish great blessings on your marriage."

"I thank you," Thorin said with his own slight nod.

"I think I begin to see the reason behind the recent changes in the King of Erebor." Bard's eyes glinted with merriment as he smiled at Idunn. "My congratulations to the new Queen."

"Thank you, King Bard," she said, although the title did not yet sound like something that truly belonged to her. "Thank you for being here with us."

"I wouldn't have missed such a sight for anything. This may be the first time I have ever seen Thorin smile."

What mild look of pleasure that had been on Thorin's face vanished at the comment, but Idunn laughed softly. "May it not be the last."

The two kings nodded to each other once more before Thorin led her away again. "Let's get this over with," he grumbled.

Standing off to the side of the festivities were several elves. Unlike the way King Bard blended in among his Men, the elven king was easy to identify for his markedly more elegant dress. All the elves had a cool demeanor about them, as though they couldn't possibly be interested in the joyous proceedings going on all around, but the king looked absolutely icy. Even so, he had accepted Thorin's invitation, and must be greeted along with their other guests.

"King Thranduil." Thorin's voice was even, neither gracious nor derisive. It was probably the best he could do under the circumstances.

"King Thorin," Thranduil said with the barest nod, "you have my congratulations." His voice held no more warmth than Thorin's had done.

"King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm," Idunn said, "it's an honor to have you among us."

When he turned his eyes on her she fancied she saw something like kindness in them. He held out a hand to her, and although Thorin placed his free hand over hers where it rested on his arm, she slipped her other hand into the elf's. His slim fingers were cooler than she expected, but there was now no chill in his expression.

"May your years be long and your joy great," he said. He pressed her hand gently before letting it go again. To Thorin he said, "May you never want for more." His favors conferred, his demeanor slipped again into one of studied disinterest.

Thorin slightly inclined his head, all the thanks he could muster for King Thranduil's words of blessing. They left the elves to themselves again and walked away into the crowds. She squeezed Thorin's hand as she looked on him, pride swirling through her at how well he had handled their meeting. While she did not know the whole of their history, she knew how much effort it had taken for him to invite the elven king, and how much it meant that he had accepted.

"Well, Thorin," Lord Dáin said as he approached them with open arms. "You're good and married now. Never thought I'd see the day. You waited long enough."

"The greatest treasure is the hardest to find," Thorin said.

Dáin laughed heartily at that. "Oh ho, pretty words, too! Idunn, my girl, you've made quite the conquest."

"Don't I know it," she said. The scent of pipe smoke and ale enveloped her as he gave her a warm embrace. "And I am just as conquered."

"Oh, don't ever let him think he has the upper hand, or he'll soon forget how lucky he is."

"There's little chance of that," Thorin said with a tender look that made her forget everyone else in the room.

Dáin glanced between the two of them and suddenly clapped his hands. "All right folks," he shouted into the din. His voice carried as well as any battle horn, and the chamber quieted immediately. "I think we've kept these two long enough! Let's send them on their way, they've enough yet to do this night!"

Thorin shot him a riled look but she saw the smile that tugged at his mouth. It perhaps wasn't the send off they'd been expecting, but it did the trick. Thorin took her hand in his, they bowed their thanks to the crowds, and left the celebration as husband and wife.

* * *

 _Winter_

Long after everyone else had gone to bed, Idunn padded down the dim halls of the royal corridors. _But an hour longer_ , he had said, and that two hours ago. She had used up all her patience with that dwarf.

The door to his study stood open. He sat at his desk reading over papers while one hand absently kneaded the muscles in his leg. The oil lamp cast his face in a golden light, illuminating his furrowed brow and the thin line of his mouth. She leaned against the door frame and watched him a moment. A ripple of pride mixed with awe washed over her just to see him so. She loved these little glimpses of him when was at ease and had no idea he was being watched.

"Are you going to lurk, or are you going to come in?" Thorin asked without looking up.

On second thought, perhaps he always knew when he was being watched.

She went to him and laid her hands on his shoulders. They were taut beneath his tunic, and she started gently working them almost without thinking. He placed a hand atop one of her own but made no move to hinder her attentions.

"What keeps you up so late?" she asked.

He laid the papers aside and bowed his head as she kneaded some of his tension away. "This potential trade agreement with the Woodland Realm." Try as he might, he couldn't yet keep the distaste from his voice whenever he mentioned their elven neighbors. "Fabrics, furs, food. It's more for show than need."

"But it's progress."

He rumbled his affected disinterest. She knew how important this tentative alliance with the elves was to him, and why he still pretended not to care. That he tried to maintain the illusion with her was amusing, since they often lay in bed late into the night speaking of his hopes for a Rhovanion united in purpose and strengthened against any enemies. Together with the Men of Dale, Erebor's expanded patrols were working to eliminate the last of the orc threat that lingered in the valley. If they could secure such an alliance with the Woodland Realm, Thorin was sure the peace they won would be a lasting one.

"We cannot expect troops from him," he said. "They still only protect their own lands. Bard thinks he will be swayed in time. I don't expect either of us will live long enough to see that day."

"Even kings can change their minds, can they not?"

Thorin grumbled in response.

She leaned forward until she rested her chin upon his shoulder. She let one hand trail from his neck to the loose ties of his tunic. "Come to bed, Thorin."

"I cannot disobey my Queen." Taking her hand that rested on his chest, he pulled her around him and into his lap. He lightly held her about the waist, his hands warming her skin through her nightdress.

"You always disobey your Queen," she said as she drew her fingers through his long, dark hair. She lightly traced his brow to his temple and down along his jaw. He did not carry so much strain around his eyes as he once did, and the flint that used to mark his features had worn away. Even so, there was no cause for him to stay up so late into the night adding worry where it wasn't needed. "You were supposed to come to bed hours ago."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I didn't realize it was a summons."

"Are you always going to be so difficult?" she asked.

"Very likely."

He pulled her face down to his and they remained in delicious silence for some time, elves and trade agreements utterly forgotten.

* * *

 _Spring_

Astrid was sure the smile she wore would never leave her face. She could not have asked for a more perfect day, and it had not ended yet. She had clasped hands with Fíli amid a circle of their family and friends, and now they stood receiving blessings and good wishes from their gathered guests. Thrór's Chambers were filled with countless dwarves of the Mountain but she only had eyes for Fíli.

"You're radiant," he said in a gap between the many compliments. "I'm a lucky miner."

"And I'm a lucky jewel to be found by such as you."

She still could hardly believe that this joy they shared was real. Each day brought her some new reason to love and admire him, and now he was her husband. She felt she could light the whole Mountain with her happiness.

They moved through the crowd arm in arm, receiving murmurs of congratulations from the folk they passed. Father was somewhere in the throngs, probably listening to some enthusiastic tale of Lord Dáin's, but Mother and Heidrun did not mingle with the others, and stood together as though they didn't quite belong among the revelers of Erebor.

"Are you not going to dance, Heidrun?" Astrid asked.

Now that Astrid would only ever rank a princess, Heidrun had softened somewhat towards her. At any rate, she had learned to veil her perpetually sour expression with an over-eager smile, to ill effect. She painted that smile all the wider, but it was strained. "Bruni is occupied."

Astrid followed Heidrun's gaze across the room to a table laden with food, where Bruni ate as though he had never seen meat before.

"I'd be honored to dance with you, Sister," Fíli said.

Heidrun's color rose. "I thank you, but no. It's time I check on dear little Brunin. He must miss his mama. It's such a blessing to have a son, you know, and the first son in both families is said to be sent from Mahal himself."

Her eyes darted to Astrid's to be sure her point hadn't been missed. Astrid's heart was filled with too much joy to deny her sister's wish to be the victor. "He is a blessing, Heidrun, and I envy you."

She seemed somewhat heartened at this. "Goodnight," she said to Astrid and Fíli, "and congratulations. I wish you many..." She faltered the traditional blessing as though she didn't know the words.

"Children," she finally said before darting away to collect Bruni.

"Children _are_ a blessing," Mother said. "Little Brunin most of all. Although I shouldn't be surprised if there is another such blessing in our family's future." She nodded significantly over Astrid's shoulder.

Astrid turned to see Idunn and Thorin speaking together, their heads bent towards one another as though no one else were in the crowded room. Although no announcements had yet been made either in public or private, Idunn's belly had begun to strain against the front of her dresses in a way that generally signified one thing.

Fíli raised his eyebrows at Astrid as though such a possibility had been unknown to him. She supposed he didn't eagerly watch for those signs like she and Dís, who had privately taken bets on when Idunn would finally confide in them.

"It is a wonder, though," Mother went on, "for she's quite a bit older than many a new mother, and I doubted she would ever enjoy such blessings."

Astrid shared a glance with Fíli. Now that Idunn was Queen, Mother would never openly insult her, but she still doled out subtle hints and criticisms behind her back without fear.

"Perhaps that's why they married without a betrothal period," Mother mused. "One would have thought they already had a little blessing on the way, they married so quickly. They were so _affectionate_ , you know. I suppose I should wish them joy."

"Mother, please say nothing of Idunn's condition," Astrid whispered. "She will tell us in her own time."

"There's no harm in a discreet word of congratulations," Mother said as she pushed away into the crowds.

"Is it true?" Fíli asked as they watched Mother trundle over to Thorin and Idunn. "Are we to welcome a little princeling?"

"They could well have a daughter."

"Do you really think Thorin would have anything but a son?"

Astrid laughed at the idea. "Idunn would have a girl just to pique him."

Fíli grinned. "A girl it is, then."

Whatever Mother was saying, it was accompanied by a profusion of gentle pats on Idunn's arm. Thorin said something brief but it must have hit the mark, for Mother excused herself and left them.

"She really never will learn," Astrid said.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Dís, who pulled her into a hug. "I'm proud to welcome you as a daughter," Dís said as she kissed Astrid's cheeks. "You make a fine addition to our family."

"Speaking of additions," Fíli said, and he bobbed his eyebrows towards Thorin and Idunn.

"Figured that out, have you?" Dís said.

"What are we talking about?" Kíli asked.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Dís said with a laugh. "As for the two of you," she said to Fíli and Astrid, "shouldn't you be greeting your guests?"

"Let him rest, Mother," Kíli said as he tossed an arm across Fíli's shoulders. "He only has so much _stamina_ for one night. Can't you see he's already exhausted? The poor thing is about to collapse. I'm afraid he has no energy left for the rest of his evening's duties."

Fíli squeezed him about the ribs until Kíli winced. "Thank you for your concern, Brother, but it's misplaced." He released him and took Astrid by the hand.

As they moved through the crowd they were greeted with words of congratulations and wishes of a joyful future. Standing beside Fíli as his wife, Astrid didn't have to wish for her future - she already had everything she could hope for.

* * *

For the third time in a year, the Great Chamber of Thrór was packed with dwarves of the Mountain eager to celebrate and look to the future. Thorin thought perhaps some of them were most eager for the barrels of ale and tables packed with food, but they were still united in their joy. Fíli and Astrid received the crowd's good wishes, their smiles shining brighter than jewels as they gazed at each other between brief words of thanks.

He turned to look for Idunn and found her close by, speaking with Bard. Ever since her eager confidence some weeks ago, he seemed always to need to know where she was. Now at last he understood why dwarrowdams were hardly allowed to leave their homes in days of old. Thorin wasn't so foolish as to try to stop her from doing as she pleased, but neither could he rest easy when they were far apart.

He approached them and slipped an arm around Idunn's waist.

"It's remarkable what you've done in such a short time," she was saying to Bard. "I'm thoroughly impressed by your markets."

"It's long been a goal of mine to have dwarves and men side by side in our markets again," he said. Then he turned to Thorin. "I only wish you could have accompanied your wife on her visit last week to see the results of our efforts."

"My apologies, but I could not get away that day. I will visit them shortly."

"It was convenient that so many of your soldiers also had need of our markets on the day the Queen sought them out," Bard said with a knowing quirk of his mouth.

"Exceptionally so."

"Even on solitary walks within the Mountain I am never far from a soldier's sight," Idunn said with a wry look at Thorin.

"Strange how they wish to protect their Queen," he said dryly.

"And obey their King."

He just gazed back at her, their argument won long before it ever started. His instinct to keep her safe was non-negotiable, as she well knew. She and the new life growing inside her were ever on his mind, even when he must be occupied with other business. Once, he might have thought such a devotion would divide his loyalties, but it seemed only to make him more determined than ever to serve his people well.

"I think I will speak with our neighbor," Bard said, tilting his head slightly towards the corner where Thranduil and his guards stood. "Dale's markets could benefit from elvish wares, could they not?" He bowed to Thorin and Idunn before striding away to greet the elves.

"Once again Thranduil joins the festivities of the Mountain as though against his will," Thorin said low to Idunn.

"It must be seen as a concession that he accepted another invitation into the Mountain," she said.

He watched Bard and Thranduil a moment, and suddenly his mind flashed with the image of the two at the gates of Erebor, ready to declare war on him. But no - that was another time, another situation, another _Thorin_. He would ensure such a day would never come again.

"Yes," he said, turning his gaze back to Idunn, "I will take his presence as a concession. One might even call it a victory."

Their attention was caught by Dáin's loud laughter as he greeted Fíli and Astrid. He was not shouting this time, but even from here Thorin could see the blush wash over Astrid's cheeks - leave it to Dáin to let no couple forget their ultimate duties on their wedding day. He strode off again and Fíli bent low to whisper something in his new wife's ear before they departed the chamber to much applause.

Thorin's own wife held him closer. "Have I ever thanked you for choosing Astrid for Fíli?" she asked softly.

"I don't believe you have." He wrapped his other arm around her, letting his hand graze over her swollen belly as he did so. A son. He was sure it would be a son.

"I couldn't have asked for a better husband for Astrid from Mahal himself."

"And you?" he asked. "What of your husband?"

"It's remarkably lucky he thought me too old for his nephew."

He hugged her tighter to him. "You will never let me forget that, will you?"

"Not likely."

He kissed her temple in the midst of his people, eager to create a better future for them all.

THE END

* * *

 **Thank you for reading along! Thank you especially for every comment and response, it is so appreciated!**


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